The Insignia
by Blazemane
Summary: After the Maximals recover 3 fallen stasis pods, Megatron makes a perplexing claim about one of their new members. Now the Axalon crew must confront the very nature of what it is to be Maximal. Meanwhile, the Preds keep fighting to win the Beast Wars.
1. New 'bots

At many serene moments, the world can produce sights so wonderful that one is forced to stop and enjoy them. But those forced never mind. It could be the luminescent reflections of sunlight off of water- glittering ripples of breathtaking design. Or as snow falls down calmly and surely, the sun can shine behind the flakes, creating an irresistible spectacle of glistening orange and white. Or after the sun has cast its last shadow of the day, the full moon can, in various nights, illuminate the night life with a soothing white. It's comforting. It's awe-inspiring. A lone but contented tiger sat at the edge of a forest taking this sight in, filled with the same awe.

While he was sitting by those trees, basking in that light, three obstructions to the moon caught his attention. Had he taken the time to notice, the objects, blazing like meteorites, would have looked wonderful casting red streaks against a glimmering backdrop. He was already preoccupied, however, with what he knew was his duty.

"Tigatron to maximal base, three stasis pods are falling. I'm viewing them from grid HLV-B, but I can't figure out where they'll all land." The comlink clicked. Then Rhinox responded.

"Understood. I'm surveying them right now, and I should be able to calculate their landing coordinates soon."

"Hang tight." Optimus radioed the tiger. "With that many pods arriving, we're going to need every one we can get out there to retrieve them. I'll tell you where to go after Rhinox figures things out."

"I'll be waiting. Tigatron out." The message had gotten to the Axalon. The tiger waited. But he did not wait patiently.

* * *

Inside the _Axalon_, a deceptively simple green graphic showed the locations of the pods as they diverged from each other and the flashing green lines which tailed behind them, showing the trajectories they had followed.

"Just a few a few more nanocycles…" Rhinox muttered to himself. He was getting antsy. Primal was actually about to ask him how long the computer was going to need to make its calculations, but his question had been answered.

"Landing coordinates determined." the _Axalon's_ computer stated plainly. "Nearest unit in subsector Quercus. Median-distanced unit in subsector Strobus. Farthest unit in grid Taurin."

"Tigatron's already pretty close to grid Taurin." Rhinox remarked.

"Alright," Optimus conceded, "I'll send Rattrap with him. Cheetor and Airazor have the best chance of reaching the farthest pod before the Predacons do." he continued.

"Hang on a second." interjected Rattrap, announcing his presence in the _Axalon's_ command center. Neither Primal nor Rhinox knew just how long he had been there. "You sure that's a good idea? That place might be the farthest away from us, but it's also the closest to the Predacons- where they've got the biggest advantage. You sure spots can handle the pressure?"

"Honestly, no. But he's with Airazor, and besides, we don't exactly have a choice, Rattrap. Right now the risk of not getting to the pods in time is greater than the risk of losing when we get to them. Speaking of which, if you've been here this whole time, you-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'Get moving, Rattrap.'" He moved off to the elevator. "Believe it or not, I just don't want the two of them to come home a pile of scrap." The glass on the elevator slid back in its place and the Maximal descended out of sight. Optimus turned back to Rhinox, who had himself already turned in his chair away from the screen to meet his leader's gaze.

"I'll take Dinobot with me to the third pod. I need you to guard the base. Megatron doesn't seem to like leaving this place alone when it's vulnerable."

"Understood." Rhinox responded. He didn't really resent the idea. The Maximals could benefit from the _Axalon's_ computer surveillance, and Megatron _did_ like to attack the base. Optimus Primal headed for the elevator and got on his comlink.

"Dinobot, Cheetor, Airazor- we've got a situation."

* * *

"Tarantulas, come in." Megatron commanded from his console in the Darksyde. This was his third attempt to contact the spider, and no response came this time either. So Megatron was left to wonder where the scientist was and what he was doing.

"Megatron call Waspinator?" the wasp asked upon entering the basically floorless room, hovering in his beast mode.

"Yes," Megatron answered, "I need you and Scorponok to go to coordinates 3-8-2. There is a stasis pod there, and it would be most _cruel_ of us to let it suffer the misfortune of falling into Maximal hands, would it not?"

"No fair! What about other Predacons?" Waspinator asked. "There more than just scorpion-bot."

"There is more than one stasis pod to attend to."

"Why Waspinator get sent to this one?"

"Just go!" Megatron shouted. Waspinator hesitated.

"But… Waspinator need scorpion-bot."

"He is already on his way, you imbecile!" Megatron said, emphasizing his words with a resounding pound on his command chair's arm. Waspinator began flying off. But he couldn't help muttering to himself.

"Waspinator will wait for scorpion-bot, but 'oh no, scorpion-bot must leave without Waspinator.' D'ohh…"

Terrorsaur was flapping his wings lazily outside when Waspinator came out muttering to himself. He considered asking the wasp what in the world was going on, but he knew Waspinator only muttered like that when he was given a task, so it must have had something to do with the pods that recently landed.

"Terrorsaur!" Megatron shouted, having just walked outside. The Predacon was startled out of his thoughts. "You will accompany me to the nearest pod, and we have no more time to waste." he commanded quickly, before charging off.

Terrorsaur couldn't think of any possible reason to disobey Megatron- there was no advantage he could gain from it. And, after all, every new Predacon in their ranks was another troop Terrorsaur could one day command. So he followed wordlessly behind his current leader.

* * *

"Megatron said the pod would be over here somewhere." Scorponok noted as he and Waspinator looked around, somewhat confused. They were in the middle of a deciduous forest, so everywhere they looked they could see tall, thick trees, interspersed with shorter, thinner ones, fallen logs, moss and grass, but nowhere could they see the desired stasis pod. But Waspinator had an idea and flew higher, just under the upper canopy of the forest.

He hovered up there for a while, droning around slowly, all the while making a distant buzzing noise. The he made a surprised start.

"Oo, Waspinator sees the pod!" he declared triumphantly. Scorponok followed on the ground as the flyer descended, heading slightly eastwards. The scorpion finally saw the pod when he was about ten feet from it. It was in a rather heavily shaded part of the forest, and it didn't help that daylight was a good number of megacycles away. But the Predacons' optics would adjust as necessary. Scorponok arrived at the side of the pod where the operations panel was. Waspinator landed next to him.

"What we do now?" Waspinator asked.

"Scorponok, terrorize!" the Predacon responded, temporarily ignoring his teammates question. Then he answered. "We must reprogram this pod. Megatron wants the protoform inside to fight for us." He tapped a button on the pod, and the actual operations panel mechanically revealed itself.

"Stinger-bot knows how?" Waspinator questioned.

"The Maximals are bound to lose this war, but they've been unfortunately fast in getting to these pods before we've had the chance to bring them back to base for Tarantulas to reprogram. So I taught myself how to reprogram out in the field." Scorponok explained. Then he started typing some code Waspinator didn't understand into the panel.

"Protoform in stable condition. Ready for activation." the pod's computer announced emotionlessly. Scorponok continued typing.

"Will stinger-bot activate?"

"Not until I'm sure the protoform is reprogrammed. But the pod will start activating the protoform by itself if I wait much longer." he replied, and continued typing. The sounds of the keys on the operation panel clicked rapidly and repetitively as Scorponok tapped them with a precision that belied his claws' bulky nature.

"There, that should do it." he announced. He and Waspinator waited for a response from the pod's computer. Then they waited a while longer. But the computer refused to say anything- not a message that the Maximal was now a Pred, not a notification that Scorponok's codes had failed- nothing. Waspinator scratched his head.

"Waspinator does not understand. Why pod say nothing?" Then a cackle echoed behind the pondering pair.

"I could help."

Scorponok and Waspinator turned around to see Tarantulas behind them in robot mode, observing the stasis pod.

"I can still figure this out." Scorponok defended. "It must just need a different code."

"And while you're wondering _if_ your method will work, the Maximals are getting closer to our position. I know I can do this, so stand aside and let me work."

Scorponok thought about this for a moment. As wary as he was of the idea of Tarantulas working on a pod, the scientist did have a point.

"Fine, do it. Just hurry up."

"Your wish is my command." the spider stated as pleasantly as he could be known to sound, though he had obviously meant it mockingly.

"DNA sequencers online." The pod's computer announced. Scorponok was nervous, because he realized the pod was now automatically activating the protoform, which could put its reprogramming in jeopardy. Tarantulas, however, was nervous because this was starting to appear unpleasantly familiar. No matter, he wasn't going to fail like he did with that ant. He got to the pod, promptly removed the maximal programming chip from the pod and inserted a Predacon chip.  
"New programming accepted. Beginning DNA sequence."

"Hmm," said Tarantulas, "your codes weren't direct enough, Scorponok. It appears you still have a lot to learn."

He quickly removed an encaged solid grey wolf spider from a compartment in his back and started moving it towards the pod.

"Hey, let me see that." Scorponok said before swiping the encaged specimen from Tarantulas' claws without waiting for his approval. He held it up to catch a little moonlight. "Interesting…" he remarked.

"And just what do you think you're-" Tarantulas cut off his own comment as Scorponok abruptly crushed the cage and the spider inside with his claw.  
"Megatron couldn't anticipate where you'd show up, but he did suspect you would attempt to make another of your own kind."

Tarantulas fumed with some unintelligible throaty grumble.

"You will pay for this, you processor-less oaf."

The pod's scanner came out of the pod and began scanning.

"Well, I'm sure there are other spiders in the forest. If the pod picks one of them, then I guess Megatron and I won't have the right to be mad, will we?" Scorponok responded. The scanner went back into the pod.

"You'd better hope that happens." said Tarantulas. Suddenly, he shouted as a white explosion seemed to erupt out of the left side of his own chest. Scorponok and Waspinator quickly hid behind trees, protected from the direction the gunshot had come from. But they were still merely feet away from the protoform.

"Step away from the Maximal pod, or prepare to suffer the consequences." declared an unseen Tigatron. Scorponok and Waspinator tried looking around the trees to see where the tiger was, which wouldn't actually be hard considering his coloring, but Tarantulas had a different idea. He sat up and fired his machine guns ferociously in the direction he'd been blasted from. When the firing finally stopped, the three Predacons heard quick rustling through the forest brush. Waspinator looked north, and to his surprise, saw another Maximal- Rattrap. Without a second thought he fired at the robot, who shouted in surprise and rolled away further east.

Scorponok spun away from his position behind the tree to look for Tigatron, and as he did, a white shot coming from the southwest scraped off a large amount of bark where he had just been. Now Scorponok knew where his target's general direction was, but he could tell the Predacons would need all the optics they could get.

"Cyber-bee launch!" he commanded before shooting off the surveillance drone. Then he looked with his own optic where the shot had come from, and finally saw Tigatron's robot mode reflecting some light. He quickly shot off three missiles in Tigatron's general direction, all of which seemed to land at least close to the Maximal, and they exploded in fierce red, orange and yellow tinted fireballs that, for, a moment, lightened the dark forest. But the fires died down and soon left only some small flames burning on tree trunks. Scorponok could not tell if he had hit Tigatron or not.

His heads up display transmitted a message in Cybertronix stating that his Cyberbee had detected a Maximal, and he switched to seeing through the drone's view. It was hovering over Rattrap. And as Scorponok watched, Rattrap fired off a few quick rounds. Waspinator cried out behind Scorponok, and he turned around to see through his own optic that Waspinator was lying against a tree trunk, his front charred. Now Scorponok knew where Rattrap was.

"Chew on this!" he exclaimed, firing off a heat seeking missile in Rattrap's direction. After a very short period, Rattrap ran from his cover, allowing Scorponok to get a visual on him. But he quickly disappeared behind another tree. Then the missile trailed swiftly and a loud explosion occurred.

Scorponok laughed in triumph, but was cut off when he was shot in the back. He face planted into the dirt. Apparently Tigatron was _not_ done.

Not ready to quit after one wound, Scorponok sat up and ran east behind a few trees. He looked where Tarantulas had been, and noticed the scientist was completely missing. He looked back south, and saw Tigatron again, who had run parallel with him and was prepared to fire again. Suddenly a gun seemed to materialize from behind the tree next to Tigatron, but Tigatron whipped around and batted the gun away with his arm. With lightning speed, he pointed his own firearm at the source of the weapon and fired. Tarantulas' body flew back from the tree, his head following its own path behind it. Both objects disappeared and reappeared from Scorponok's view as they went behind and away from different trunks.

But Scorponok took the opportunity given by Tarantulas' distraction, and fired a carefully aimed missile at Tigatron. It hit dead center, and Tigatron was repelled violently backwards with a shout.

Scorponok's cyber bee flashed him a warning, but Scorponok turned around only in time to be thoroughly blasted by Rattrap.

"Never assume your enemy's down for the count, clanky-feet." Rattrap taunted. He walked closer to Scorponok, and trained his gun on him. Scorponok saw that Rattap had not even been singed. "Now just how much did you mess with the pod over there?"

"Rat-bot should take his own advice." Waspinator's voice echoed from behind the Maximal before he fired a torpedo, which hit the Maximal.

"Beast mode." Rattrap said. He transformed and scurried off under some brush.

"Come back here!" Scorponok shouted, raising his right arm. But he winced from the movement.

Rattrap kept scurrying as he did a sort of shout at a whispering volume.

"Yo, Tigatron! Tigatron, the barbarian? Talk to me, buddy!" He heard a groan a little bit southwest, and went that way. Then he ran into Tigatron, who had a pretty good hole in his chest. His tiger head had absorbed a lot of the missile's impact, but it was mutilated beyond recognition, and what it hadn't blocked had been burned back to it simplest, silver metal form, twisted and bent in various chaotic directions.

"Tigatron? You alright?" Rattrap spoke, before transforming again to robot mode. His back hurt near his right shoulder. Tigatron groaned again, but sat himself up.

"I'll be fine." he lied stoically. "We need to defend that pod."

"Hey, you'll get no arguments from me about the pod needing defending, but you don't look so good, pal."

"I'll be fine." he growled, and stood up. But then he stooped quickly and made a quick, quiet exclamation. "We don't have a choice. And if I stay here, they will just come looking for me anyways. Besides, you're not in perfect condition either."

"Ah… we ain't got a choice." Rattrap admitted, awkwardly aware of the irony of his own statement.

"Then let us go- quickly." Tigatron said. Rattrap, despite his small size, took one of Tigatron's arms around his good shoulder, and they headed off for the pod.

But when they came in sight of the pod, they saw Waspinator standing, and Scorponok weakly sitting, in front of it- guarding it. The foursome saw each other, and the Maximals ducked once again behind cover as torpedoes and missiles passed by them and hit various trees in the woods. Rattrap was one tree away from Tigatron, but he had to shout over the gunfire.

"I don't know about this. If they wanted to kill us, they'd fare a lot better searching us out, not waiting in one spot for us to come to them."

"Hmm," Tigatron responded, "when we came they weren't working on the pod either were they?"

"Ya' think the pod's reprogrammed already?"

"Let's hope not."

The firing from the Predacons stopped, and the Maximals heard, instead, a mechanical noise. They looked carefully from behind their two trees, and saw the pod opening. The Predacons were not running away, or pointing their weapons in its direction. That could only mean one thing.

"Tigatron, I think it's time to split."

"No!" he responded. "We must be certain. We would not want to abandon a comrade."

Scorponok watched as the new warrior crawled out of the pod. He noticed, much to his agreement, that it was not a spider. Instead, it was a mostly grey badger, of a considerably larger size than the actual animal upon which the robot was based.

"Welcome to the Predacons!" Scorponok greeted him triumphantly. "What is your name?"

The Cybertronian regarded the scorpion.

"My name is Swiftfang." he answered.

"Swiftfang, there are two Maximals just beyond those trees. Find and destroy them!"

Swiftfang looked to Scorponok, on his left, and Waspinator on his right, then looked dead ahead.

"Swiftfang…" he said.

"Maximize!"

The new arriver transformed to a silver robot of medium height. He didn't waste time, promptly bringing his elbow to Waspinator's stomach. Waspinator doubled over, the wind knocked out of him. Scorponok reacted quickly and aimed his missile laden pincers at Swiftfang. But the Maximal, while not seeing this, had anticipated it, so he grabbed Waspinator's frame and wheeled the Predacon in front of himself not a moment too soon. Scorponok's missile detonated on contact with Waspinator's already damaged chest, which saved Swiftfang from a lot of the fire, but sent him reeling backwards where he gracelessly landed on the ground.

He got up quickly and ran deeper into the forest, away from his own pod.

Tigatron and Rattrap took the opportunity to come from behind cover. Scorponok, realizing his strategic disadvantage, transformed to beast mode and scurried away north amidst gunfire from the two Maximals.

Once he was satisfied he was out of sight and far enough away from his enemies, he began mumbling to himself.

"Very bad… Megatron… Megatron will not like. Waspinator and Tarantulas… scrap. Must…" He stopped talking, and moving, when the new Maximal showed up in front of him. Scorponok quickly transformed.

"If you will not be one of us, Megatron will at least want to know you were destroyed!" he shouted vindictively before shooting a missile from his right pincer.

Swiftfang neatly rolled away on his back as a tree erupted into a fireball right behind where he was. Scorponok ventured closer to where Swiftfang had disappeared. He got to the tree Swiftfang had rolled behind and wheeled around it, pincers open. To his surprise, he found nothing. He turned around and saw Swiftfang staring at him. He tried to aim the pincer missiles at him point blank, but Swiftfang quickly back flipped onto his own hands, using the momentum to kick Scorponok's pincers into the air. When he landed on his feet, Scorponok was bringing his pincers down once again, but Swiftfang jumped quickly into the air and dealt a double-legged dropkick just as Scorponok was about to fire. Behind Scorponok the forest continued down a steep hill. It was a _very_ steep hill.

* * *

"Cheetor," Airazor said, using her com link to talk to the Maximal who was running a long way down on the ground, "I see the pod." She was looking through her HUD, which zoomed out after her systems confirmed that she was indeed seeing a stasis pod. Still, she continued scanning around the night time Savannah. "And I'm not scanning any Predacon signatures."

"Alright!" Cheetor shouted back, even though he, too, was using his com-link. He ran to his left to avoid a tree about 20 feet ahead of him, and after passing it, resumed his original path. "Rhinox must have figured things out a long time before the Preds if we beat them _here_."

"Just keep you eyes peeled." Airazor responded. "They could still come."

After a few cycles, the Maximals arrived at the pod.

"Airazor, Maximize!" the falcon commanded. She directly to the pod and looked it over. Its system's letters and various symbol's glowed warmly in the night. "I'm no expert, but it seems the protoform's datatrax aren't damaged."

"So… we just have to wait?" Cheetor asked. Airazor nodded in reply before transforming back to beast mode. Then she alighted next to him.

"What do you think he's gonna' be like?" Cheetor asked.

"We can't be certain it'll be a 'he', can we?"

"Well, no, but I mean, what do you think he's gonna' be like?"

"I'm not sure. What would you _want_ him to be like?" Airazor responded.

"I think a malicious, but very loyal soldier would do me well. Perhaps he could be ruthless, cruel and fierce. Ah, that would be ideal, yes." responded a deep voice from a massive Tyrannosaurus-Rex. Airazor wheeled north to the source of the sound and found Megatron, illuminated only by a little starlight and moonlight. Cheetor, without a moment's hesitation, transformed to battle mode and reached for his gun.

"Megatron, I don't seem to recall asking you." said Airazor, almost pleasantly.

"That is merely a technicality, my dear Airazor." Then his tone became much more serious. "Now, in regards to the protoform we all clearly want, we can solve the dispute peacefully or painfully. Simply hand us the pod and we will leave you in peace, yes."

"How 'bout… 'no'?" Cheetor responded as deeply as he could make his vocal processor work. He pumped his quasar gun for emphasis.

"Very well. Megatron, terrorize!" He immediately transformed, and both Terrorsaur and Airazor followed suit. The falcon swooped for Megatron, but was stopped mid-flight by an enraged pterodactyl. Terrorsaur had a vendetta against Airazor because of the first time the two met. This left Cheetor to face the predacon leader.

"This isn't fair..." muttered the despairing cat under his breath. Singlehandedly facing the Predacon leader was one of the few things Cheetor was willing to admit he was not up to par with. Megatron quickly began shooting with his purple head laser. He allowed it to continually fire as if it was seeking its target. Among the things it found were a few of the scarce thin trees of the Savannah, some rocks and the air as Cheetor used his greatest asset to weave in and out of rather sparse cover. This was starting to frustrate Megatron, so he switched strategies, ceasing the laser fire, and activated his targeting computer. Cheetor saw this as an opportunity to run for a large rock he could stay behind for a while, but when he started running, Megatron took careful aim, and scored a direct hit on the Maximal with a missile from his hand mounted tail. Cheetor watched with smoke rising from his torn chest, as Megatron advance on him.

Terrorsaur, in the meantime, had opened fire with his shoulder cannons, and hit Airazor in the left shoulder. She attempted to return fire with her arm-mounted guns, but she couldn't act quickly because of the damage she had already sustained, so Terrosaur easily dodged. Terrosaur was about to resume his own blasting when Cheetor looked away from Megatron and noticed the bird's dilemma. He aimed his gun, and shot, but Terrosaur dodge backwards just in time. Still, this distraction provided the opportunity Airazor needed, and she unleashed a barrage of bullets on the Predacon. Her battle momentum, however, was cut short when Megatron shot her right in the stomach with his head laser. She was sent careening backwards and landed on the ground a small distance away.

When Megatron turned around, he was surprised to see Cheetor was no longer there. Megatron saw him attempting to run for a shallow ravine that ran from the west to the east. Just as he was about to jump into that ravine, Megatron shot his right leg, sending him crashing down into it instead.

Satisfied that he had won, Megatron produced a programming chip which he had the presence of mind to have Inferno swipe from Tarantulas' lair at a time the scientist was not there. Terrorsaur landed next to him to watch the reprogramming occur. The leader reached for the Maximal chip inside the pod, intent on replacing it. But Airazor, summoning her strength, sat up and zoomed her optics on the Predacon chip. She engaged her targeting computer, and using her arm mounted weapons, shot at the chip. Even at the distance Airazor had fired from, her ammunition hit its target, sending bits and pieces of the programming material into the air. Megatron shouted in rage, and the pod's DNA scanner, as though it was taunting him, began searching the surrounding region.

"Very well." Megatron said as he aimed his missile loaded tail at the pod. A quasar blast sailed from behind Megatron and smashed into his shoulder. The Predacon was hardly damaged, but he wheeled around to face the Maximal who'd blasted at him.

"Terrorsaur, destroy that nuisance." he commanded. Terrorsaur flew towards Cheetor, who had climbed to be just partly above the ravine's edge. Megatron turned around once more to face the stasis pod, which was just retracting its scanner. But the back of the Predacon's right knee was nearly shot out by Airazor, and he stumbled backwards. He stood straight again, and turned around. He quickly shot at Airazor with his laser again, and she was hit in the shoulder, which knocked her backwards and sideways from her kneeling position. To Megatron's right, Cheetor was hit again with a missile from Terrorsaur, and he fell. But behind Megatron, a white light illuminated the darkness.

The new Maximal, a lion, stepped out of the pod.

"Blazemane, maximize!" he commanded. His transformation was much the same as Tigatron's and Cheetor's, except for the fact that his beast mode head revolved into his chest to reveal a normal chest plate. His metal was primarily colored a dark blue.

Immediately realizing Megatron to be a formidable foe, he drew a handgun from his leg and blasted him point blank in the chest. Megatron's thick armor prevented this from doing too much damage, but he was forced backwards, and Blazemane quickly ran towards the nearby ravine. Terrorsaur fired with his shoulder cannons at the running enemy. He didn't make any direct hits, but a few close shots scorched some of the Maximal's metal. Then he jumped into the depression in the land. He noticed Cheetor was in there and observed that his damage was extensive.

"Is there any point in me asking if you're alright?" he said.

"Above you." Cheetor exclaimed, warning him of Terrorsaur. Blazemane folded the beast mode legs across his back in half, the bottom halves going behind the top halves. Where the break in either leg was, a machine gun revealed itself. The legs revolved around so the machine guns faced the same way as Blazemane and now rested on his shoulders. Without a word he opened up. Yellow fire erupted from his machine guns as bullets and bright sparks bounced off of Terrorsaur's chest and empty shells fell in repetitive "pings" on the ground. Terrorsaur flew off course and crash landed somewhere above the ravine where the Maximals couldn't see.

Blazemane climbed up again to see Megatron coming their way.

"So, you've come to face your destruction?" the Predacon asked.

"You stole my line." Blazemane remarked. He pulled his handgun with lightning speed and blasted his full magazine into the Predacon's chest and torso. Megatron faltered but he refused to fall. When the firing ceased, he laughed.  
"Is that the best you can do, Maximal?" he asked.

"Well," Blazemane said with a very slight shrug since he wanted to remain battle-ready, "I mean… if you want a stronger assault made against you, I'm sure I could arrange it. I did kinda' expect what I just did to have done the job."  
"Silence!" Megatron shouted as he blasted Blazemane off his feet with his laser. He began advancing closer, and Blazemane prepared his machine guns. Suddenly, however, blue lines began pulsing over Megatron's frame.

"I've been in battle mode too long. Beast mode!" Megatron knew he couldn't fight a relatively fresh soldier in beast mode. As soon as he was a T-rex again, he began running off. Terrorsaur flew from behind Blazemane, but only intended to retreat with his leader. And Blazemane had no intention of dragging the fight out any further, so he let them go.

"Beast mode." he commanded his computer. The other two would need help getting home.

* * *

Optimus and Dinobot were walking in a coniferous forest. They knew they were getting close to the pod. Dinobot had been looking around, but he hadn't detected any Predacons nearby, so he decided to risk speaking out loud.

"Tell me, Optimus Primal, did you know all protoforms who had a history on Cybertron before they joined your crew?"

Optimus was bit surprised by the question.

"I didn't know them all personally. I met most of them when they first signed up to join the crew. Most of those, I only met a second time when they came aboard before we left. There were even some who came on the last day who I had never met. Why do you ask?"

Dinobot nearly growled. He wasn't angry, but he was thinking.

"I merely find it interesting what life's path can lead to. No matter what they used to do, or who they used to be, they must never have suspected that they would, without direct intention, end up on some distant planet where a battle would be fought over their allegiance." he responded as they continued walking.  
"No," Primal commented, "they couldn't have."

"I find it surprising, as well, that Maximal protoforms who are reprogrammed by Megatron's crew seem to so easily fall under his command." he added. "Or," he said somewhat smugly, "is that so surprising after all?"

"It's unfortunate. You yourself recognize the problem with what Megatron is fighting for."

"I have never said that." Dinobot quickly defended.

"No, you haven't ever _said_ so."

"Megatron betrayed me. And, he ruined our mission by bringing us to the wrong planet."

"So you're doing this all out of spite?" Primal asked. There was a small silence. "In the protoforms' defense, we're never certain if they're ones with pasts or not. Either way, nobody seems to have remembered their pasts yet. So those who've been reprogrammed don't have any memories to tell them they should fight for anything else."

"That is a plague on both our houses. You must realize Optimus," Dinobot replied, "that those new members who have never had anything to do with Predacon programming have no experiences to tell them otherwise either. What's to say they fight for idealism?"

"Goodness which wouldn't be brought about by different circumstances isn't necessarily goodness invalidated. Do you really think Airazor and Tigatron don't fight for what they think is right?"

"The tiger's code is at times almost sickening. It is certainly undeniable. But I doubt Blackarachnia and Inferno lost any stasis-rest last night feeling guilty about their actions. Our codes are not the same as your codes, Optimus Primal."

"I've never heard either of them try to defend their actions either. Is it not possible they don't feel guilty because they don't want to? That they over-ride their potential guilt with whatever contentment they get from following their current path?"

Dinobot nearly growled in thought again.

"I am not certain. But their apparent lack of choice is unfortunate. I could not live if not the master of my fate."

They kept walking, and Primal thought about the whole ordeal.

"Y'know," he finally spoke, "I've always believed that ideals are a constant. That it doesn't matter if someone has been nurtured into a specific mindset or code of action- there is still a definitive right and wrong, and anyone can find their way back to it. I can't deny that my belief is being shown what looks like a counter example. But we've only seen the Predacons' actions up to the time we're at. Maybe, someday, one of them will join us, as you have. And I _know_ you aren't with us just out of spite, even if you don't."

There was another brief silence as they kept walking. Then Primal spoke again.

"The situation certainly does hold the mirror up to nature."

Dinobot whipped his head towards Primal and for a second they exchanged a knowing glance.

"I think you used to read more than military history and tactics books." Primal noted. Dinobot simply looked back at the woods ahead. The he suddenly became more alert.

"There! The pod!" Dinobot announced.

He and Optimus ran to it, but were a bit surprised to find both Inferno and Blackarachnia arriving at it at the exact same time. Primal and Blackarachnia might have been fine if all four of them stared at each other for a few awkward moments to appreciate the irony, but Inferno and Dinobot immediately had different plans.

A cacophony of 'terrorize' and 'maximize' commands filled the night air.

The DNA scanner appeared and began looking for a form to match the Maximal inside. Inferno began flying through the air, and Primal blasted at his chest with his arm mounted guns. He landed a direct hit, but Inferno continued flying up. He would have taken aim again, but Blackarachnia opened fire with machine guns. Dinobot and Primal both took a few hits, and ran for relative color, but the trees were somewhat thin.

Dinobot ignored the spider for a second and looked at Inferno flying through the air. He stared directly at the wires which enabled his flight, and blasted at them with his optical laser.

Inferno was laughing liking like a madman when the wires were severed. Then he began falling.

"…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" *Thud*

This left Blackarachnia to fend for herself. She shot cyber-venom darts at Optimus which he easily dodged, and at the same time, displayed rather impressive multi-tasking skills by concentrating her machine gun fire on Dinobot. Dinobot took heavy damage, but Primal fired two shoulder mounted missiles at her, both of which exploded right by her feet. While she wasn't directly touched, she flew backward. She was about to get up when a black bear came out of the stasis pod.

"Steelclaw, maximize." On his beast mode hind legs, the fur split in the middle and revolved to the back of his legs, revealing sandy grey metallic panels. His arms came from the underside of his main body. These arms were the same sandy color. His bear head fell onto his chest and his forelegs flipped behind his back, where they connected in the center rather than crossing. His head came out of his beast mode neck. This was a darker shade of grey than his body, and his optics were blue.

One of Steelclaw's beast mode hind legs opened like a tall cabinet and he pulled out a relatively small rocket launcher. He fired at the spider, who gaped in horror as she watched a rocket grow larger in her optics every milliclick.

After the explosion, Primal looked to Dinobot, who was full of a surprising number of bullet holes. Some sparks lit up and died away where various wounds were. Steelclaw walked to Primal.

"Is he gonna' be alright?" he asked.

"Beast… mode." Dinobot commanded. He transformed into a velociraptor, and then stood resolutely, but rather weakly, on his feet. He snarled. "I am perfectly fine." he then replied. Steelclaw whipped around, and pulled out a pump-action guass rifle when he heard a noise behind him. He saw Inferno aiming both of his guns in the groups' direction, and before he could react, he was hit by two blasts from the ant. Metal and some mech fluid flew off of him, but he quickly regained his balance, pumped his gun and fired. Inferno was hit in the hip, and he involuntarily spun backwards.

"Leave him." Primal ordered. "We came to get you, and now we've got to get Dinobot back to base."

"I disagree." Dinobot snapped.

"Of course, sir." Steelclaw replied without turning around. He was keeping his gun trained on the Predacon. "I certainly couldn't have him hurting us, but now that he is not an immediate threat, I will only continuing firing under your orders."  
"Did the _Axalon's_ computer get a spark?" Dinobot questioned under his breath. Primal would have pushed on Dinobot's snout if he wasn't concerned about the damage he had sustained.

"Don't mind Dinobot," Primal explained to Steelclaw, "his sniping abilities are only excelled by one other 'bot I know. Anyways, we really should go now."  
Steelclaw nodded and transformed to beast mode, and Optimus followed suit. The three Maximals were headed home.

* * *

At the Axalon, the mood was light. Three new Maximals had been gained and everyone had made it back to the _Axalon_. Some were actually in major disrepair, and for almost a full day, Rhinox and the CR chambers were kept busy. But eventually, everyone had gotten back to their healthy selves.

Rattrap had, somewhat surprisingly, made friends with Swiftfang, and was told by Optimus to show Swiftfang his new quarters.

"So what is your main job on this ship?" asked Swiftfang as he looked at the currently bare walls.

"I'm just your basic stealth fighter, plant a few bombs, shoot a few preds', an' call it a day."

"Then what are you doing on an exploring crew?"

"Oh, we've all sort of got our own individual combat skills." he explained. "Except for maybe 'Spots." he added.

"'Spots?" Swiftfang asked.

"That would be the Maximal with… spots." Rattrap explained with intentional redundancy.

"Oh. That would… make sense. So you say everyone knows how to fight?"

"We wouldn't stand much of a chance if we didn't know how."

"Interesting." Swiftfang acknowledged. Cheetor opened the door to the quarters and Swiftfang turned around to see him. This would be 'Spots.

"Sorry about this, but Big Bot says he wants to show you how to do monitor duty up in the bridge." he remarked. Without a word, Swiftfang headed for the door.

* * *

Back at the Darksyde, Megatron had broken his own personal record. He choked Terrorsaur half to death, punched Scorponok half way across the room and left in his wake a shattered computer screen, a dented hover board and a command button panel sparking from the impact of one fist.

"You let the maximals have three new soldiers? The sheer incompetence!" he bellowed.

Tarantulas, who was just being lifted from the CR tank on its hover board, heard with great interest that Megatron had said _three_ Maximals.

Blackarachnia, too, had just woken up, and realized she had a job to perform. She was nervous to come forward, but she thought that if she could get through to Megatron with the information she had, then just maybe his anger would subside. Hesitantly, she spoke up.

"Megatron, after the Maximals left I managed to recover some of the genetic material from the new Maximal. His mech fluid had been blasted onto a few trees by Inferno. I don't know specifically what good it can do us, but I assume you like to know everything you can about the enemy."

"Very well, let me see it." Megatron responded. She got on a hover board and ventured over to him quickly. Then she handed him the small vial of blue fluid. Megatron took it and stored it in a compartment on his arm, before boarding his own hovercraft and venturing off to his own quarters. He had every intention of getting into his bath tub with his rubber duck and simply letting the day's failures wash away. He would analyze the sample from there, for whatever good it would do.

* * *

A few megacycles later, Tarantulus sat in his lair, frustrated with his failure. But he was content with a new piece of knowledge. He allowed himself a chuckle. Perhaps the day hadn't been a total loss after all.


	2. Cybertronian Events

This is the second chapter in the Serengeti Series. This chapter didn't need editing as much as the first chapter had needed it, but I still found there were some things I wanted to change.

This chapter takes the story off of Earth and begins telling the story of the theft of the Golden Disk, although the story doesn't actually get to that theft until later on.

Any feedback would be appreciated.

It had been a relatively easy day, although as always he was bored and more than happy to get home. Being a guard at the Cybertron Database was generally boring. This was mainly because anybot' who would have any kind of idea of attempting anything illegal at the C.D. quickly decided against it- they all knew how heavily guarded it was.

The C.D. was the Cybertronian version of a library. There was plenty of information which was freely available to be viewed and even downloaded by anybot who so desired. It had only the greatest virus and spyware protection systems. It was one of Cybertron's most prided computer systems, and for good reason. It had never crashed in its one-hundred and forty-three stellar-cycle existence.

However, for all the help it gave the general public it also had important information which could be accessed only by government officials and select employees of the C.D. Having been a security guard at the C.D. for 52 stellar-cycles, Galeforce was a very trusted, and in this case, select employee. Because of that reason, as Galeforce drove home, he was selected by others for a vastly different purpose.

He didn't remember why he felt as uneasy as he did that night when he drove through that last alley. Nor did he remember what hit him first, the missile on his right front door or the eyebeams on his left headlights. No matter which one it was, he was flipped onto his hood by the impact.

"Transform this instant, and if you make so much as an engine rumble, you will be terminated on the spot."

Galeforce complied. He had years of combat training, but he had already lost the fight. He could tell there were two robots, but they were hiding in the shadows, so, he thought to himself, he wouldn't be able to give a very helpful description to the police.

"Seeing as this would be a hard thing for any robot to go through, I'll make this extremely simple. We know all about you Galeforce. We know of your work at the C.D., and we also know you have been granted access codes to highly classified information. Simply hand over the chip which contains the codes and we will leave you alive and with no further injuries."

Galeforce had always been a stoic 'bot… "You won't be able to get the chip if I don't give it to you, so I could merely say no and there'd be no point in killing me."

"Incorrect. For if you do not hand over the chip, me and my associate will immediately destroy you, and painstakingly remove every panel in your body until we find the compartment where the chip is contained in order to retrieve it."

Reluctantly, Galeforce opened a compartment on his arm and held out the chip. He began passing it to the unseen speaker. Suddenly he gripped it in his hands in an attempt to crush it. A look of frantic panic spread over his face as the chip stubbornly refused to crack.

"I knew making these out of Tironium was a bad idea." he thought to himself as a purple laser hit his chest near his spark chamber. He fell over against the alley wall as the chip dropped out of his hand onto the ground. The unseen talker grabbed it, then he and his associate left the alley.

…too stoic.

* * *

Quickrim strolled into the office of the Maximal that ran the agency he worked for- a division of government agents trained for fighting and high priority detective work. He immediately noticed his leader wasn't in a good mood.

"The media and the C.D. are insane! It's as if they decided to be stupid together! A 'bot who works there nearly gets scrapped, and high priority codes are stolen. They should've raised security secretly and merely waited for suspicious activity, but no, let's close down the whole C.D. and tip off the high threat attackers that the government is after them by broadcasting it on t.v. for the whole world to see!"

Quickrim waited a moment for him to calm down and then asked. "Sir, what is the mission you called me for?"

The robot responded. "Well, truth-be-told, I was going to ask you to investigate this attack. I wish the circumstances were different," he said, giving another sullen look at the TV broadcasting news of the C.D. being closed, security there being raised, and indeed, the government's intention to find the attackers and the chip, "but it still seems our best move."

"Where do you suggest I start, sir?"

"I actually want you to go to the C.D. As long as the whole planet knows we're on this, there's no point in staying away from the building."

"Why there?" Quickrim asked.

"If I'm not mistaken," his boss replied, "the place where the guard was attacked was a mere fifteen cycles away from the C.D. But the C.D. wasn't tipped off on Galeforce's misfortune for about 4 megacycles. If they had four free megacycles to be at the C.D., it's possible that they viewed the information they wanted in that time, especially since they had to know at least someone was going to look into things."

"That makes a great deal of sense, sir" Quickrim conceded. He headed for the door, but then stopped before getting outside. "Sir, did you say nearly scrapped?"

"Yes."

"So he's alive, sir?"

"Yes. One of his attackers took a cheap shot at his spark, but it was narrowly missed."

"That's good to hear, sir."

* * *

The C.D. was a large building with twelve equal sides. When one went in the main entrance, they went up a large ramp which led to a long wide hall with a central computer. This was used only by robots with exclusive access. Along the hall were doors- twelve of them, with six on either side. Above each door was a number, and above the numbers were screens which showed another number representing the number of spots which were available in that room. In each room was a very large circular computer. This computer had one-hundred and eighty separate screens along its perimeter- one placed every two degrees. With each of these screens there was an advanced keyboard, which was used for searching for information and any other necessary tasks.

When Quickrim arrived at the C.D, he went in the hall to the central computer and entered the correct code to be granted access to it. He then checked for the records of all the classified information viewed and/or downloaded in the four hours between when Galeforce was attacked and when the C.D. was closed. A list soon came up which pinpointed all the files which matched those parameters. It also showed exactly what room the information was seen in and which exact screens in that circle the information was seen in. Fortunately, the only classified files viewed in that time period were viewed at two separate screens in one room, room number three. Quickrim went in room three to look at those files.

When he arrived, he went to the closest screen he was required to view. He briefly typed in a command for the computer to reveal to him a list of what classified files had been viewed. The "list" consisted of one folder, and the folder was simply called "golden disc". It had a status bar that read "downloaded". Quickrim then noticed something strange. Each screen showed a list of numbers- one through one-hundred and eighty- each representing a screen. All the screens that weren't currently being used were lit up in yellow (a feature intended to make the flow of database users more efficient. Knowing what screens were and weren't in use allowed any one to immediately go to an unused screen rather than walk around laboriously, hoping to find one). Naturally, Quickrim's computer's number, twenty-seven, was unlit.

But another number was unlit: one-hundred and five, which was basically on the other side of the circle. Still, the main concern wasn't where the screen was.

"Base one, please come in." he requested plainly. It was his leader who responded.

"Agent E, this is Wirecat, are you encountering trouble?"

"Sir, I think there may be a security breach. I'm getting in closer to confirm."

Quickrim began walking over to the other booth. As he was going, he realized the other screen being used was the other one classified information was viewed on last night. More panic came. Was it the attackers? Was it somebody else? Remaining as he quiet he could, he increased his pace to the other screen. On his way, he noticed a grisly sight. A guard lay lifeless on the ground with a gaping hole in his chest. There'd be no helping him.

Finally he rounded the last part of the curve and he was able to see screen one-hundred and five. But… there was nobody there. Quickrim was about to run back to the entrance to room three to try to catch what he assumed would be a running assassin, when he noticed keys on the keyboard were moving and the screen kept switching between files. Suddenly the typing stopped. Quickrim noticed to his horror and shock two targeting lasers on his chest. Suddenly something snapped in him. This unseen foe would kill no more!

"So that makes your second attempted murder. You do realize you failed to kill the 'bot yesterday?" Quickrim stated coldly.

A deep, accented voice replied back. "No, the one you undoubtedly saw on your way to me was my first one, and as you can see, I succeeded with him."

Quickrim couldn't believe his audio receptors. How could one stand there and so candidly, so freely admit to killing? The infiltrator even seemed to register an amount of enjoyment to what he was admitting. How dare he?

"Why should I believe this is your first?" he asked.

"I don't think there is anything I can say that would make you believe a word of what I say. But, then again," he chuckled with some relish, "I don't have to make you believe me." Lasers continued to probe Quickrim.

"I beg to differ!" With that, Quickrim went on the ground and slid towards what he didn't see. He was rewarded by the feeling of having kicked metal and hearing a heavy body hit the ground.

"Oh, I don't have time for this!" shouted the enemy as he blasted two holes into a nearby window. Quickrim could hear the enemy running and chased him. But he didn't realize they were now both jumping into nothingness from a tall building until they were in the air. As the invisible 'bot expected and Quickrim did not, they both landed on a flying craft near the building. They stayed on this until it flew them close enough to one of Cybertron's many elevated roads. Both desiring firm ground, they jumped onto this road. The enemy quickly pulled out his guns again, and Quickrim pulled a bottle of oil. He threw the bottle with stunning velocity and in perplexed delight watched the plastic shred as it exploded in what appeared to be midair. The oil spouted out in any direction it could find. A lot of it sat frozen in space at odd intervals, revealing the shape of an invisible robot upon which it sat. Frustrated, the enemy turned off his cloaking device to reveal a cat like shape, primarily colored black and silver.

The cat shot multiple blasts at Quickrim, one of which hit him in the shoulder. As Quickrim was a car-like vehicle in his alternate form, two of his wheels were held near his wrists. Two wholes opened on both of these wheels. Quickrim started shooting twin quasar blasts out of both of them. The cat was hit directly in the chest by all four blasts and was knocked onto his back, but his armor wasn't pierced. He quickly sprang back up on his feet and shot two expert blasts at Quickrim's wheels. Both of the wheels exploded as the ammo inside them met lasers from the cat's guns. This of course caused discernable damage to Quickrim, and the force of the explosion had sent him towards one of the sides of the road. Now he was hanging over the edge by one arm. The nearest road under him was fifty feet below. He tried to get back on the road, but found it a struggle.

Another car transformer was speeding down the road unaware of the cat or Quickrim. When he rounded the corner, he noticed the cat. The cat looked in shock for a second, but then calmed down and simply jumped onto the hood of the car. Soon the car came near Quickrim.

"Here, let me give you a hand." said the cat as he grabbed Quickrim's arm. The momentum of the car dragged Quickrim back onto the road, and the cat kept holding on. He looked on in twisted satisfaction as sparks flew off Quickrim's body, which was being dragged on the road at full speed. Then the car neared an overhang. While Quickrim was on the road, he still was near the edge, and the overhang arched down in his way. The cat laughed maniacally. Quickrim saw what was coming to him and got an idea if his own. He gripped the cat's arm. His enemy let go of him, but Quickrim himself held on with all the strength he could muster. Realizing the impending impact, the cat frantically attempted to get out of his grip, but to no avail. Quickrim hit the side of the overhang hard, and since he held onto the cat, the cat was pulled off the car rapidly and slammed into the wall inside the overhang, bricks flying off with his body.

Both groggily struggled to stand back up. Quickrim couldn't stop himself from letting out a small chuckle of vindication.

"I will admit, it's almost funny Maximal" said the adversary as he pulled out his twin blasters. "Almost." He aimed his guns at Quickrim and let out a barrage of laser fire, under which the Maximal faltered and finally fell. The cat put away one hand gun and walked cautiously over to his opponent with the other at the ready.

But to his surprise, the Maximal wasn't finished with the fight, and as soon as the outstretched gun came in close enough range, Quickrim made a swift kick at it, knocking it out of the offending hand. Then the Maximal quickly regained his footing.

The cat kicked with his left leg towards Quickrim's chest, but he blocked the leg with his right arm. The cat spun around with same leg in the air and swept at Quickrim's head. He ducked, but with amazing momentum having been built up, the cat landed on his left leg as his right foot came up and made loud contact with Quickrim's face. Quickrim flew onto his back.

"Oh no buddy, this is my arena." thought Quickrim in frustration.

He got up and ran at his adversary. The cat attempted to punch him, but instead of getting close enough, Quickrim flipped over him and on his way down, kicked the cat in his back with his right leg. The cat landed on his knees. He rolled backwards, and when he got on his shoulders near the top of his back, he jolted up with his legs in an attempt to hit Quickrim in the stomach. Quickrim nimbly went to the cat's left side, and when the cat was rolling onto his feet, Quickrim kicked him in the face. The cat landed on his back with a massive amount of built-up momentum.

Quickrim waited a moment for his adversary to regain his footing. Once he regained it, he angrily ran at Quickrim, and attempted to tackle him. Quickrim neatly jumped above him, and the assailant scraped the ground. But with a determination rarely seen, he got up again. He punched at Quickrim, but Quickrim caught the fist. Quickrim then grabbed his adversary's other arm, hoisted himself up and with both legs, made a straight kick at face level. The cat fell over nearly unconscious.

Just then, a very large automated transport came driving by with multiple transformers in it. Both the cat and Quickrim had learned their lesson about this and they ran to the lee of the overhang, dangerously close to the edge of the road.

"I've had enough of this." said the cat. Just as the transport was about to come to their side of the overhang, he grabbed Quickrim and threw him against the side of it. Glass was shattered and the metal on the side of the car was dented. Quickrim fell over dazed as the cat climbed onto the swiftly moving vehicle. He began climbing on the roof in order to get to the front of it. Quickrim grabbed the back bumper just as the transport would have gone out of his reach. Every instinct told him he was losing the fight, but he couldn't let that infiltrator just get away.

Sparks flew again as he was dragged by the vehicle, so he climbed up the back, and on top of the roof quickly. As the transport sped on, Quickrim and his enemy faced each other on opposite sides of the car roof. The cat was frustrated. He grabbed un-holstered his remaining gun and began firing at Quickrim. Quickrim was hit in chest and the laser actually scorched some internal wires, but his spark wasn't nearly touched. Persistently, he closed the distance between him and his enemy, and then tackled the cat. They both landed on the transport's hood. The cat threw what for even professional boxers would have been a beautiful punch, which hit Quickrim's face with a sickening thud. The Maximal fell back onto the windshield and made a significant crack in it. The cat took advantage of Quickrim's temporary daze and actually got the balance to stand on the hood. Panting heavily, he aimed his laser at Quickrim's head.

"This wasn't an easy fight, I'll give you that." said the cat. Quickrim noticed they were about to round a corner. The nearest road under them was still far below.

"When would you like to schedule the next one?" It was all the spunk Quickrim could muster, meager as it was.

"Oh, I'm afraid you're going to have to miss it." laughed the cat triumphantly. Quickrim finally let it sink in- there wasn't any way he was going to stay around his foe and remain alive. He had to let this one go.

He raised his head and shoulders slowly and rather weakly so as not to encourage his opponent to shoot before he intended to. Then he suddenly reared back and allowed himself to crash all the way through the wind shield. His body landed in a graceless heap on the floor of the transport, but he propped himself up with all haste and switched the vehicle to manual before pushing on its break with one of his hands. The car came to a screeching halt, and the Predacon was thrown off the hood and over the bend in the road. When the car stopped moving, Quickrim picked himself off the vehicle's floor with a pained grunt and stumbled out of the door to his left even as other passengers filed out in confusion.

Quickrim got to the right side of the road and looked over it. He noticed a dent where the cat landed on the first road below them. The cat, however, had bounced off and fallen to yet another road beneath that one. Quickrim had to zoom with his optics to see him at all. Then, right where he was, the cat vanished.

The passengers began asking Quickrim what had happened, but he could only think to respond with a few weak responses of "I'm not sure."

Then his comlink turned on.

"Agent E, this is Wirecat. Is there a security breach?"

Quickrim's face dropped in disbelief. He had completely forgotten that he had even clued his commander in on the situation.

"Yes sir."

* * *

At Quickrim's headquarters, his leader sorted through the limited information his agent could provide.

"Quickrim, I hate to say it," he noted, looking at Quickrim's yet to be repaired injuries, "but the description you gave us of this 'bot doesn't match anything in any records we have. So… somebot, and you're not sure if it was one of the original attackers, got access to the C.D. That's what we know so far. Did you find any information that looked like something last night's attackers could have looked at?"

"Sir… I did find…" Quickrim hesitated. "Well, I got the chance to see one specific file that had been viewed in the four hour window our thieves had. It was information on the golden disk, and it was downloaded, sir."

His commander pondered this for a moment. "Honestly, I'm not seeing that as their work. Yes, we have to be ready for every possibility of threats, but… I can't conceive of any group with the resources to attempt an attack on the Dome."

Quickrim shrugged. "It doesn't seem likely to me either, sir. They had to have looked through an assortment of classified files so we wouldn't know what specifically they were looking for. Golden Disk information does sound more like a decoy than something to fear."

"Right. Well, anyways, I understand you didn't have much other time to investigate. We've got Agent D over at the C.D. right now with a small armed squad to continue the investigation on what was viewed last night. We'll figure this out yet."

"Thank you, sir." Quickrim replied.

Just then, a message came in.

"Base one, please come in."

"Agent D, this is Wirecat. What's going on?" he asked back.

"Sir, Agent E told ya a bunch of files'd been looked into in that four hour window, didn't 'e?" The voice on the other end of the com-link responded. Quickrim suddenly began listening with greater interest.

"Yes." the agency leader responded in a slightly inquisitive tone.

"Yeah, well, it's all gone."

Their leader rolled his optics and let his head tilt dejectedly to the side. "Define 'gone'." he commanded.

"Well, the C.D.'s system seems to be working right, but it ain't sayin' any classified files were looked into in that time."

"So there goes all our C.D. leads?" he responded in disbelief.

"If… that's what you're sayin', sir." Agent D responded over the com-link.

"That is what I'm saying!" the leader shouted back. "Double check with some tech' workers over there to make sure there isn't any bug still in the system. I'm pretty sure something like that wiped out the clues we had. And ask them if there's any way we can get that information back."

"You got it." Agent D responded. Then the communication was terminated. The leader turned around to face Quickrim again.

"Everybody else is working on other cases," he observed. "Once you get yourself repaired, I want to assign you an elite police force member, and then I'll need you two to go talk to Galeforce."

"Understood, sir" Quickrim replied.

* * *

Torcher was a cop. But not just any cop- he was one of Cybertron's elite. Put through stellarcycles of intense training and preparation, he and the other few elites were relied upon to get through some of the toughest situations and the most resilient crime rings.

It was almost as though he hadn't had a choice of occupation. There was an adventurous and fiery spirit in him as well as a desire to protect justice and stop dirt bags. As a result, he had wanted to be a cop since the age of five stellarcycles. He had no idea he'd end up going this far, but Torcher liked having gone that extra mile. It felt right, and despite the danger he often faced, he wouldn't have it any other way.

He checked to make sure he had his weapons, a pair of hand guns. They had borne him through many troubles, and he nearly cherished them. Transforming into a sleek orange and blue-highlighted motorcycle of a very discernibly Cybertronian nature, he started down the road.

Because of the elite nature of the police force he was in, he often found himself working with Maximal government agents. Like any other occupational partnering situations, there were a lot of different ways the assigned co-worker would react. Some felt patronized by the idea their boss thought they needed someone to watch their back (most government field agents were also heavily trained for combat after all), some were thankful for the help, some panicked about the idea of having to watch over the police member's back- feeling they'd both be safer alone- and other just really didn't care either way. But either way the police members had to get used to their assignees' reactions, and the agents had to get used to being assigned.

After a while of driving, Torcher arrived at an alley very near to a hospital, and Quickrim was waiting in that alley like they'd both arranged.

"Hey," Torcher greeted his partner amiably after transforming, "how're things going?"

"Alright." Quickrim replied simply. Torcher might have taken the opportunity to continue the conversation with less important matters if Quickrim had given the indication by his response that he also seemed willing to do so. But he was clearly focused at the moment. And well, Torcher supposed he couldn't complain about that.

"So what's the situation?"

"Two nights ago, a C.D. guard, Galeforce, was ambushed on his way home by two unknown assailants."

"I actually heard about that already." Torcher admitted.

"Cross-referencing police reports?" Quickrim asked.

"Nope. News Channel 32.1" Torcher replied.

"Right" Quickrim chuckled. "We suspect the codes taken from him were successfully used at the C.D. to view and likely download highly-classified government information very soon after the attack- before the C.D. was informed of Galeforce's being assaulted. I personally investigated at the C.D. to learn what classified information had been viewed in that time, but I was only able to detect one of many such files before I was placed in a confrontation with yet another unknown assailant who had killed at least one guard at the Database."

"Seriously?" Torcher asked. Quickrim shrugged.

"He got away, I survived, and unfortunately, I know nothing more of the matter. At any rate, by the time some one else was sent to the C.D. to investigate, all the evidence of any 'bot hacking the Database had somehow been erased."

"So we go with the leads we have. This… is the hospital where Galeforce was taken?" Torcher conjectured. Quickrim nodded in reply, and started walking out of the alley.

"I take it this means we're going right now?" Torcher asked as he followed the other Maximal.

* * *

"I'll talk to him." Quickrim asserted. "You wait outside this door."

"What? You think I'll mess up the question and answer session?" he said with mock dejection.

"No, I just… don't want him to feel crowded." Quickrim replied. "We only need one person asking anyways.

"You think we're going to get attacked, don't you?" Torcher asked. Quickrim looked at him quizzically for a moment, wondering where he had even gotten that idea. Then his face straightened, and he opened the door to Galeforce's room.

"Yes." he replied with no discernable sarcasm. Torcher's features dropped. But as Quickrim closed the door, he shook his head and formed a silent "no" with his mouth just to assure Torcher he had only spoken in jest.

Inside, Galeforce watched from his bed as Quickrim came closer. He had already been fully repaired in a CR chamber, but the medics wanted to keep him around just a little while to confirm that he'd be fine.

"So you're a police 'bot?" Galeforce asked after Quickrim showed him his badge. "I told the first ones who asked me, I don't know who these jokers were or what they looked like. I also told that to the second ones…" He turned his head and looked outside the window. He let out a sigh. "…and the third ones."

"I'm not a police 'bot." explained Quickrim. "I'm a Maximal government agent."

Galeforce turned around and stared intently at Quickrim. "What kind of trouble do you think I'm in?"

Quickrim tried to reassure Galeforce, and himself. "I can't guarantee you're in any. But I need to know everything I can about the situation."

"Well, I don't what new information I can tell you, but what do you need?"

* * *

Outside the door, a security officer was walking the halls on his daily rounds. Naturally he was a little apprehensive when he saw Torcher standing outside the door, both his handguns looking obvious where they connected to his electromagnetic holsters.

"Sir, do you have an i.d.?" asked the guard. Torcher produced his badge. "Very well, sir." He was about to continue when Torcher noticed his gun.

"Sir, can I see your gun?" At this, the guard whirled around, what-the-slag-is-your-problem written all over his face. Torcher noticed the look of utter disbelief, so he grabbed one of his guns and tossed it to the guard who, nearly expecting to be attacked, flinched at the gun being tossed to him and hardly caught it. "You can arm yourself with mine for the moment if you distrust me. Just… just, can I see your gun?"

The guard, still at a loss for any reason why Torcher wanted to do this, but in a slightly more trusting position, tossed his gun to him. Torcher deftly caught it.

"I'm sorry." Torcher explained, as he inspected the barrel, handle, and trigger with apparent relish. "It's just that I have some kind of fascination with handguns. I've had to rely on them for a while now and building the best ones I can is something of a hobby of mine." Despite the… awkward situation, the guard tried to keep up the conversation.

"What about rifles?"

"Too bulky."

"Shotguns?"

"Sporadic and bulky." Torcher continued his inspection of the gun. "This is a fine piece of equipment." The guard was happy to hear so. For somebody who seemed to be an expert in the munitions field, Torcher appeared as if he would make some snide remark about the gun being shoddy. But the situation hadn't become any less comfortable.

"Well sir, I'm a hospital security guard. I don't think I'm ever going to have to worry about getting into any very high risk situations."

Torcher shrugged. "Well, you never know what trouble might just come your way." he replied. Then he thought about his statement for a moment. "Dah… that was no threat" he tried correcting himself awkwardly.

* * *

"Two, it was two of them." answered Galeforce. "The one who was talking kept referring to his 'associate'."

"What kinds of weapons were used against you?"

"To tell you the truth, I can't remember specifically. It happened rather quickly. But I believe the medical analysis stated I'd been hit by a missile and twin trained lasers. After that, a single laser pulse. Why does it even matter that much?"

"I can actually find out a lot about your attackers based on their weapons." Quickrim explained. "In this case, the missile and single pulse weapon isn't that surprising- those can be obtained easily. But twin lasers suggest body mounted weapons, in this case, probably optic lasers. And if we're going to assume body mounted weapons, we can consequently postulate one of them was an attack specialist- maybe a soldier of some sort."

"What about an assassin?" Galeforce asked.

"I'd doubt it. An assassin wouldn't be hired for a simple code heist."

"And yet," Galeforce asserted, "you're here- a worker for the government, no less. I think this 'simple code heist' must mean something pretty important if it got you folks involved."

Quickrim looked into space for a moment. This patient had him pegged.

"Yes," he admitted, "things have gotten a bit serious. But the specific point you're bringing into question- whether you were attacked by an assassin- is made highly unlikely by the fact that you were left alive."

"I don't think they knew I was alive." Galeforce contended. "You do know they took another shot at me after the original two, right?"

"I was not given a full briefing on your assault." Quickrim admitted.

"I tried breaking the code chip and I got hit with a single laser." Galeforce explained more fully.

"It is possible they were retaliating to your attempt to destroy what they wanted from you. But then, there is no way of knowing for certain, so I suppose that allows for the possibility of your theory being correct. Why are you focusing on the idea of an assassin?"

"I guess I just want to be wrong- and convinced I am. I mean, call me paranoid, but that final shot, as you said yourself, might have been meant to kill me. But it's been publicly announced that I'm still alive. Is there any possibility that I'm still in danger?

"I don't really think so, no." Quickrim replied.

Galeforce chuckled. "Generally when government agents say that, what they really mean is 'duck and cover'."

Quickrim tried to reassure him. "This hospital has weapon detectors and automatic x-ray machines at the door." Galeforce was not reassured. Working as a professional security guard for as long as he had gave him extensive knowledge about how automated security measures worked and just how they could be breached.

"Well… there's no such thing as air tight security" he responded.

* * *

Outside, the guard and Torcher were continuing their conversation.

"So how far do you think yours could fire?" inquired the guard.

A look of disdain covered Torcher's face. "Ah, these are supplied by the e.p.f. They can't fire very far."

The security guard scoffed. "What kind of guns are you used to using?"

"Custom. Making guns has become something of an obsession of mine, so I've constructed others with a lot more power. But…" He looked at the gun he had not given to the guard and his look changed from disdain to admiration "these e.p.f.s have kind of grown on me."

A purple robot walked down the hall. He had streaks of yellow and was wearing a holographic medallion on his arm, signifying he was hospital staff. Torcher took a second glance at the security guard and noticed he bore the same thing.

The medic was wheeling a cart tray with needles and bags of liquid on it.

"Hello." he said in an almost raspy voice. He was about to open the door to Galeforce's room, when Torcher stopped him.

"Hold on there, what are you here for?" The purple robot picked up a schedule off of the tray.

He read out loud "Patient: Galeforce. da da da… administer two full doses of supplement at 6.5 megacycles past rotational beginning." Torcher looked up at the clock at the end of the hall. It was indeed 6:30.

"O.k.", he said, "go ahead. Just tell the guy inside I let you in."

Torcher moved his eyes from the clock to a slanted mirror near it which revealed the hallway around the corner. There was a robot standing there in the reflection who seemed to look like he had nothing specific to do. A friend of a patient, perhaps? But why, then, wasn't he in a waiting room?

Oh well, there could be multiple explanations. It seemed a little strange, but it didn't really matter.

"Sir," the security guard called, getting Torcher's attention away from the mirror. "I have to keep doing rounds." he explained, handing back Torcher's weapon. Torcher handed the security guard back his own.

"Oh, o.k.," he responded. "Thanks for putting up with me."

* * *

"Hello, Galeforce." the medic greeted.

"Who are you?" Quickrim inquired.

"I work here." he replied simply. "Your partner allowed me in."

"Hey wait…" Galeforce said. "What's this all about?" The medic looked at his schedule again.

"I have been told to administer your necessary supplement."

"I wasn't told about any 'supplement." Galeforce protested. The medic handed him the files directly. The paperwork proved that the medic was, indeed, right. "O.k.," Galeforce announced, "but why didn't any other staff tell me this was going to happen?"

"It's a very simple, and, in the grand scheme of things, trivial procedure- it doesn't really need announcing." the medic contended.

"Now hold on a second." Quickrim said, motioning at the purple 'bot with a halting sign. "I know you're just trying to do your job, but I've got to be in charge of the safety of this patient for the moment. This just seems… could you get your manager to confirm this?"

Then medic stood still for a few moments, pondering, then he headed back for the door.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience." Quickrim continued. "I just need to be careful right now."

"No, no," the medic replied hastily, "think nothing of it." Then he opened the door yet again to go outside before closing it behind him.

"That was quick." Torcher observed.

"Yes, your friend wants managerial approval." the medic replied. Then he waved a signal at the mirror at the end of the hall. The other bot waved back in its reflection and started walking around the corner. The medic put his schedule down and started fiddling with the materials on the cart.

"Is that the manager?" Torcher asked, somewhat surprised.

"Oh, not at all." The medic responded before thrusting quickly at Torcher's chest with a liquid-filled needle. Torcher hadn't even fully realized what was going on, but years of training and caution caused him to reflexively catch the hand that was flying for him so quickly. A very quick observation allowed him to see the needle he was only keeping centimeters from himself.

His mindset changed from confusion to battle-readiness in a nano-click, and he gracelessly shoved the medic to put him at a distance. The medic, being pushed back, accidentally knocked over his cart and most of its contents spilled onto the ground.

Then Torcher whipped out both of his e.p.f. revolvers and unleashed a barrage of high powered bullets into the 'bot's chest. Metal flew off of him as he was repelled backwards until he finally fell onto his back with several bullet holes in his chest plate. Torcher had been careful, however, to not go near his spark chamber.

But no sooner had the cop put his target down then twin lasers cruised down the hall and scorched him in his hip. He was thrown off balance and went to the ground. He took aim with one of his guns but it was knocked right out of his hand by another incredibly fast laser shot.

Torcher watched in slight dismay as the robot drew a sword from his back. The blade seemed to be composed of a few different parts which suddenly began revolving at a threatening rate.

"Hey!" Torcher heard someone shout behind him. The exclamation was quickly followed a succession of laser pulses- the guard had come to the rescue!

The swords-man hesitated for a moment under the assault, but he summoned the courage to stand tall in the face of the laser fire and then blasted at the guard, who quickly ducked around the corner of two adjoined hallways.

Torcher used this distraction to run into a groove on the right of the hall. About two seconds later, twin green beams cruised lethally down the hall. Torcher then heard the sound of some new piece of machinery being prepared by his adversary. It started with a mechanical hum which was quickly overwhelmed by the sound of air being rushed about rapidly- as if by some large fan.

Torcher put his remaining gun in his right hand before inhaling for a moment. Then he leapt out of cover, and after viewing his target for a moment he took a shot. But he was only rewarded by the sound of his bullet ricocheting angrily off of what Torcher now saw to be a rotating shield. The swordsman shot with his lasers again and hit Torcher square in the chest. He stumbled back, but he refused to fall over, and after regaining his footing he aimed directly at his opponent's face plate and fired three more rounds.

Each one was repelled, and the assailant continued walking forward the entire time. The guard stepped out and made two more shots. These, too, had no effect. Then the swordsman made a sweeping arc with his lasers, burning a path through the entire hallway. Torcher ducked in time for the light to pass over him, but the guard got caught right in the head and was thrown spiraling to the floor in stasis lock.

Torcher got to one knee resolutely and with both hands on his weapon for support and precision, he embraced a new idea. He made one shot right at the center of the shield. This did nothing noticeable to the shield, but the swordsman picked up his pace and started running. Unfazed, Torcher took another shot at the center of the shield, to no effect. He ejected the clip in his gun and quickly replaced it with another before making a third attempt at the shield's center.

This did the trick, and the components within the rotational device began to run over each other. But the assailant dropped his shield on the ground while it spun wildly out of control and in a few short moments, he was in reach of his foe.

Torcher pulled his trigger twice more, and made direct contact with his opponent's chest, but his formidable charge could not be halted, and he swung at Torcher with his sword. The cop rolled to his left, but the sword slashed through his right shoulder and down his arm. He continued his roll onto his back and then used the nearby wall for support as he tried standing up. But before he could even get on his feet, the sword was sent straight through his left upper leg- even coming out of the back of it- and he fell right back to the ground with a cry.

The opposing warrior drew the sword out of Torcher's leg, and raised it into the air, preparing for a killing stab.

But a door near Torcher opened, and Quickrim stepped out, refuting the warrior with twin quasar blasts. The swordsman now looked like a walking mass of weapon-inflicted injuries, but he refused to fall over, and instead answered the government agent with another laser salvo. Quickrim was knocked against the wall just inside of Galeforce's room, and he dented its thin metal with the impact.

Torcher pulled his weapon out again, but before he could even fire, the sword swung through the air again and knocked the handgun a few feet back, right next to the stasis-locked medic and his overturned tray. With a speed that surprised his enemy, Torcher turned onto his hands and knees and began crawling for the displaced weapon, leaving a trail of blue mech fluid behind his punctured leg.

Just as he was about grab the gun, however, a foot came crashing down on his back, and his hand fell short. Then the swordsman hefted him into the air with one hand around his neck and slammed him into the wall, suspending his feet above the ground. He raised his sword again.

"Wait!" Torcher shouted, putting a hand around the arm that held him. His opponent stood in his position for a moment. "Don't I get to say anything?" he continued.

"Do you mean to say," his opponent snarled, "that you have any final words?"

"Well, no." Torcher said. "I hope they aren't my final ones. I was just wondering…" Suddenly be brought his other hand up and slammed a liquid-filled needle into his the underside of the offending arm.

In surprised satisfaction, Torcher noticed red lines suddenly run all over the warrior's body.

"Do you know what's in these things?" he finished the question.

Suddenly, the 'bot dropped Torcher, sheathed his sword, and, after grabbing both the purple robot and his deactivated shield, ran out a nearby window. They were on the first floor, so there was no fall involved. Once outside, the poisoned warrior ran into a nearby alley with his partner. But Torcher didn't have the energy to give chase.


	3. The Data Disk

"Ah, come on."

Cheetor knew he wasn't the best shot in the world, but the rock almost seemed to be mocking him- sitting there with its crude but effectively painted target. His last shot had gone just to the top right corner of the boulder and chipped off a small piece, but he still hadn't hit anything he was aiming for.

He pumped his quasar cannon and took aim again. He pulled the trigger and watched disappointedly as the yellow shot streaked off to almost the exact same spot the previous one had, only this time just missing the boulder.

Blazemane, having just walked off one of the _Axalon's_ platforms in battle mode, walked up to the practicing Maximal.

"Target practice?" he inquired.

"Yup," Cheetor responded. "I think I've hit everything but the target."

"Hey," Blazemane replied, "hitting that much area would make for some awesome cover fire." A few moments of unfulfilling silence passed.

"Are you using your targeting computer?"

"Hey, I'm not _that_ bad."

"No, no…" Blazemane conceded. "Why aren't you using it then?"

"It takes too long to line up a shot. I want to be accurate, but I'm trying to get ready for fights when I won't have the time for my HUD to help," Cheetor explained.

"Makes sense. Can I see you take another shot?"

Cheetor shrugged, mentally prepared for embarrassing himself in front of an attentive audience. Then he fired again, and the resulting quasar blast actually hit the yellow region which marked the outer perimeter of his target.

"That's not so bad," said Blazemane. "I think you've got the idea of looking down your gun the right way, but your firing posture isn't helping you much. You kinda' look like you're leaning back, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of your gun's kickback, or because you're angry at the rock and you're trying to shoot impassionedly."

Cheetor looked back at Blazemane and then back to his own gun.

"I don't mean that insultingly," he continued. "Both of those emotions are common in practice, and if it's what you're going through, it's not something to be ashamed of. Just… try for right now to lean into the shot. It'll give you a lot more stability- not just for aiming before you shoot, but for also dealing with your weapon's kick afterwards."

Cheetor pondered for a moment, and then aimed his weapon again, this time leaning forward.

"The forest starting about a mile from our base's starboard side extends a great distance," a voice admonished from somewhere nearby. Blazemane turned around to see Dinobot and Steelclaw, both in beast mode, coming back from a scouting tour. Blazemane quickly identified Dinobot as the speaker.

"This provides an unfortunately large amount of cover for our enemies to conceal themselves in, but it also provides an easily accessible second refuge, should the _Axalon_ ever be taken or rendered unsuitable."

"Hey," Blazemane called to the two of them.

"Hey," Steelclaw replied. "How's the practice going?" Blazemane turned around and watched Cheetor make his shot. The quasar went a little closer to the center, but Cheetor still seemed dissatisfied. But Blazemane noticed something else.

"Hey… I think those quasar shots are drifting up," he announced.

"You think so?" Cheetor asked.

"Yeah. Can I take a shot?" Blazemane requested while walking over to the other Maximal. Cheetor simply handed him the gun in response, and Blazemane took aim, looking carefully down the barrel. He fired, and the blast hit almost the exact same spot Cheetor had hit in the previous shot.

"Oh it's definitely drifting," the shooter concluded.

"Can I see?" Steelclaw requested. Cheetor motioned for him to come.

"Steelclaw, maximize," he requested of his computer, and soon he was transformed. Taking the gun from Blazemane, he observed the target for a moment and then aimed the quasar rifle.

Cheetor knew better than to count himself a master marksman, but he was fairly certain Steelclaw was aiming at a patch of ground in the distance. Then Steelclaw seemed to cease all movement- a fair amount of his internal systems even stopped whining. He pulled the trigger, and the quasar flew out of the barrel. It proceeded down range and then smashed straight into the boulder's painted center. Debris flew in all manner of directions, and when this was done, the rock was shown to be full of cracks. After a few moments, a freshly segmented section of the rock slid down to the ground and took a few more gravelly pieces with it.

"At least it's drifting consistently," Steelclaw remarked.

"Indeed," said Dinobot with slightly narrowed eyes. He had been observing the situation in silence since he and Steelclaw had arrived.

"Would you mind if I did some work on your gun?" Steelclaw inquired of Cheetor. "I think I could make it fire more straightly."

"If you want to," the Maximal replied.

Steelclaw nodded and walked to the _Axalon's_ elevating platform with the weapon in his possession.

"Do you have any other guns?" Blazemane asked.

"In my quarters," Cheetor replied.

"O.k. Because if you want to keep practicing, you can use my handguns."

"I think I need to go back inside anyways."

"Why?"

"I need some more paint," Cheetor explained. Blazemane looked over to the devastated boulder, and briefly scoffed.

"That's probably true."

* * *

Megatron looked around the bridge from his commanding chair at all of the assembled Predacons awaiting his orders in their beast modes.

"I trust," he began, "that everyone is familiar with their roles in this assault?"

Nobody muttered anything to the contrary, so Megatron continued.

"Scorponok, have you finished uploading the information onto the data disk?" he asked.

"I've got it right here," the scientist replied, holding up the drive in his right pincer.

"Excellent," said Megatron. "Would you hand it over, please?" Scorponok transformed in response and got on a hover pad to make his way over to his leader. Then Tarantulas spoke up.

"What precisely do you plan to do with this information, Megatron?"

"What else?" Megatron replied. Then Scorponok arrived and handed him the disk, which Megatron promptly placed in a compartment on his back.

"We shall hand it over to the Maximals."

* * *

Steelclaw was working in his quarters when Dinobot opened his door and strode in. He could see that Steelclaw had disassembled Cheetor's weapon into its various pieces. At the moment, he was looking inquisitively down its barrel.

"Have you been able to find a solution to the cannon's accuracy troubles?" Dinobot asked.

"Yeah," Steelclaw replied, putting the barrel down. "The top of the barrel got burned in some battle or another, so there's actually a slight upwards diagonal running along that part. Once the quasar gets there, it's not being constricted along the top as much, so the quasar decompresses in that direction and by that decompression, gains unwanted upward momentum."

"You are experienced with firearms, then?" Dinobot asked. The answer was almost certainly to the affirmative, but Dinobot wasn't actually concerned about whether or not Steelclaw knew his way around weapons so much as he wanted to know where Steelclaw had gained that knowledge.

"I… suppose," he replied as he grabbed a nearby cylinder of a solid weapons-grade alloy. Dinobot observed from its hue that it matched the inside of Cheetor's cannon. "Y'know, Optimus told me it was a common thing for us pod-'bots- to arrive not knowing anything about who we were. But it still feels extremely strange. Ah well, at least I'm not alone," he said. Then he deployed a PPC on his left arm and began torching a small section of the cylinder off.

"You mean to say, then, that you have no recollection of your past?"

"Basically," Steelclaw replied. He had separated the piece he needed and now he was heating it to a malleable temperature. "My identity circuits seem to have made it out fine and they kept my personality and acquired skills intact. Combining those two factors at least lets me make some guesses. Maybe I was a gun smith, or a cop, or a soldier. But… yeah, it's like you're saying. I don't actually remember."

Dinobot pondered this response for a moment as he watched the other Maximal shape the red-hot piece of metal into a small shape which was much longer than it was thick. Steelclaw studied it for a moment and then picked up the hot metal with heavy-duty tongs. He put the quasar cannon's barrel upside down and laid the piece into it- a perfect fit for the unfortunate curve that had been burned into the gun in some unknown incident.

Dinobot let out a small ponderous growl.

Suddenly, he was cut off by the sound of a red alert.

"All Maximals, report to the bridge and prepare for battle," Optimus' voice came over the ship's speakers, "We're under Predacon attack."

* * *

"Rhinox, you're with me," Optimus commanded just as Dinobot, Swiftfang and Steelclaw arrived in the bridge. "You too, Dinobot. Cheetor and Blazemane were cut off by the Predacon's attack- we've got to help them retreat back inside Sentinel's force field. Rattrap, man the shields and be prepared to lower them when we leave and when we come back. Those two times need to be short, but let's make them count- Steelclaw and Swiftfang, man the ship's guns and be prepared to take some shots when those shields do go down. Let's move!"

There was a sudden outburst of organized pandemonium as everyone sprang to their proper places. Within moments, Rhinox, Primal and Dinobot were headed down the elevators.

"How long do you think it'll take for that platform to get to the ground?" Swiftfang quickly called to Steelclaw as they both arrived at their chairs and typed fervently at the keyboards.

"I give 'em about seven nano-clicks." Steelclaw replied. Suddenly the targeting displays at both Maximals' computers showed up, and yellow Predacon signatures appeared.

"Talk about your time to aim!" Swiftfang complained. Steelclaw rushed and put three targets over enemy combatants to the right of the field- namely, Inferno, Scorponok and Tarantulas. Swiftfang managed to put one on a quickly moving flying target- Waspinator.

"Shield's goin' down!" Rattrap shouted to them both while looking at surveillance footage of the three Maximals on the ground jumping off of the elevator and running for the force field. No sooner had he shouted the words then the message appeared on the gunners' computer screens that Sentinel's shields were now standing down.

Swiftfang let out a loud whistle as he slammed his open palm onto a red firing button.

Outside, Inferno and Scorponok noticed the shields go down as soon as they did. They both immediately fired at the offending auto-guns. Tarantulas meanwhile, noticed the three charging Maximals. He put his missile launcher in their direction.

"Go back to your pitiful fortress, you Mini-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Rhinox opened up with both of his chain guns and mowed the Predacon to ground in a, sparking, hole-filled heap. Moments later, the threesome ran by, merely feet away from his stasis-locked form. Then Dinobot was suddenly forced to jump to the left as Waspinator's flaming chassis came flying out of the air and slamming into the ground, sending pieces of dirt plummeting upwards- Swiftfang' guns had done their job swiftly.

Rhinox had not been so swift to react to Waspinator's fall and tripped over him. But without delay, he rolled on his side and used his momentum to come right back to his feet, running side by side with Dinobot. Optimus Primal had by this point taken to the air- Terrorsaur was very near to Cheetor and Blazemane, and he was using his flight to an unfortunately great advantage.

Meanwhile, three out of four of the guns under Steelclaw's control exploded under the furious assault of Inferno and Scorponok's missiles, which gave the ant-'bot cause to cackle madly. The fourth gun sent a successful blast at Inferno's chest, but after he got knocked to the ground, he merely picked himself up- injured chest and all. Steelclaw lined up another shot, but before he could fire, the call came again from Rattrap.

"Shields are goin' up!"

Just as the force field re-appeared, Inferno charged inside of its perimeter, while Scorponok just missed the window of opportunity and bounced gracelessly back with a noise as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him. But he stubbornly stayed on his feet.

Steelclaw tried to aim his remaining gun at Inferno, but quickly realized Inferno was close enough to the ship for its frame to actually be in the way of Steelclaw's shot.

"Well _that's_ embarrassing," he muttered to himself. But Rattrap had another idea.

"Open roof hatch," he commanded the computer. The hatch immediately began opening, and with a smile and a slight chuckle, Rattrap stood to his full height, grabbed a bomb from a compartment in his arm, squeezed it to begin its timer, and then tossed it out of the hole in the ceiling. Outside, the bomb nicked the inside of the perimeter shield on its way to the ground, and then, upon landing, bounced a few times until it came to a rest a few feet from Inferno, who turned around and then acknowledged the bomb's existence with a short gasp. He quickly turned away from it, covered his head with his hands and ran, but he didn't get far before the bomb erupted in a massive fireball.

Inside, Rattrap laughed loudly for a good space of time. Then he stopped himself when he saw Steelclaw running for a hallway leading away from the bridge.

"Hey, where're you goin'?" he asked.

"They took out most of my auto-guns," Steelclaw replied.

"So? Whatta' you gonna do about it?" Rattrap inquired.

"I'm getting my sniper rifle."

"But you can't just… d'oohh," Rattrap finished grumbling.

"Hey, Rattrap," Swiftfang spoke up. "You'd classify this as a major offensive on the part of the Predacons, would you not?"

"Yeah," Rattrap replied simply.

"Then, uh… why isn't Megatron on the battlefield?" he asked.

"Eh?" Rattrap looked at his own signature scanner at the center console. "Hey- you're right. An' I ain't seein' Little Miss 'Prickly Legs' either."

Swiftfang looked at Rattrap with an inquisitive stare.

"Blackarachnia?" said Rattrap incredulously.

"Oh," Swiftfang replied, "I see."

"Computer," Rattrap commanded, turning around to face the center console again, "give us a scan of everythin' around da' _Axalon_."

* * *

"Well, well, well," Terrorsaur taunted as he fired with his rifle down at the two Maximals below him, "looks likes it's the three of us all over again."

Cheetor and Blazemane dove to the ground in separate directions, and the rifle shots hit the ground harmlessly.

"Hey," Blazemane replied, magnetically holstering a spent magazine to his left leg before putting a fresh one in his handgun and then aiming upwards, "I'm not happy about it either." He fired off five rounds in quick, loud succession, but Terrorsaur dove widely down and to the left, all the while laughing at the Maximal's failed attempts at taking him down.

"Want to try a new invention?" Terrorsaur taunted. "Courtesy of Scorponok." He quickly retrieved a black grenade.

"Scorponok?" Cheetor asked. "Oh, o.k., then I'll just stand here."

"Move!" Blazemane shouted as he tackled Cheetor over a rock- apparently with no time to lose as the grenade detonated and sent out a massive blue wave of energy along the ground, extending in all directions. Fortunately for the two Maximals, the rock they were now behind absorbed a lot of the damage from the part of the wave that was coming for them, but it still completely demolished that bit of shelter, and slammed painfully into the Maximals.

"Aaaaah!" Cheetor cried as he was thrown to another patch of ground with his side now scorched badly. Terrorsaur laughed again, and dropped another grenade. Blazemane quickly reacted, and hoping for the best, shot at it as it fell. His shot made contact and detonated the weapon prematurely, sending another circular wave, which this time cruised through the air at a strange diagonal. All three combatants were out of the way of this wave, but it did come dangerously close to Cheetor's head, and almost sounded to him like it was ripping the ground. When it dissipated, it left a ditch that was at least two and a half feet deep.

"Excellent shot, Maximal!" Terrorsaur cried. "Let's see if you can repeat it…" He dropped a third grenade, but suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Optimus Primal came cruising through the air and caught the grenade without detonating it. Then he whipped the explosive straight at Terrorsaur's chest at a frightening velocity.

The grenade sent a wave which cut straight through the left side of Terrorsaur's mid-section, completely severing that section- and the arm attached to it- from the rest of his body. The rest of the wave carved, again, through the ground and whatever air it could find.

Terrorsaur made every effort to fight off stasis-lock, and actually succeeded, but by the time he turned around, he was taken out of the air by a blast from Primal's arm cannon and Dinobot's optical lasers. He plummeted to the ground with a loud screech.

Optimus Primal descended to the ground and then turned his jets.

"We thought you two might want some help."

Sparks shot off from the revealed circuitry in Blazemane's right leg as he waved dismissively.

"Nah."

* * *

Steelclaw quickly made the door to his quarters slide open, and then he rushed inside. Opening a panel in the wall, he eyed his sniper rifle which was attached magnetically to a metal rack before taking it down. Then he reached in another compartment that had been concealed behind the panel only moments before, and grabbed a handful of high-caliber Tironium rounds.

He hastened out of his quarters as he put the rounds into a compartment on his arm. His door slid closed behind him. Then he rushed down the hallway back to the bridge.

"Dey're right behind our ship!" Rattrap exclaimed just as Steelclaw rushed in.

"Who's behind our ship?" he asked as he grabbed one of the bridge's chairs and positioned it underneath the roof hatch.

"Megs' and the she-spider," Rattrap explained. "They're already on our side of the shields."

"Computer, open the roof hatch," Steelclaw commanded calmly. He stood on the seat of his chair and then jumped into the air. He caught the sides of the ceiling's opening and then, grunting from the exertion, clambered out with his rifle attached to his back.

Turning around on the roof to face the incoming pair of Predacons, Steelclaw got down on his stomach and placed his right shoulder firmly into the butt of his rifle. Looking down the scope, he searched for his targets.

"I can't spot them back there," he called to the two inside the bridge. Rattrap looked back at his scanning monitor. Then he pulled out his handgun and pulled back on its slide to load it.

"They're inside," he said. "Steelclaw, Swiftfang, you two have to get to 'em before they do something to the ship's systems," he suddenly ordered.

Steelclaw got up and began folding the hinged parts of his rifle into each other as he headed back for the hatch. He placed the compacted weapon on his back again and lowered himself most of the way into the bridge before kicking the chair below him out of the way and then dropping the few remaining feet to the ground.

"Are you fine operating the controls alone in here?" Swiftfang asked Rattrap.

"We're gonna' have to see. Now get movin'!"

Without a word of consultation, Swiftfang and Steelclaw took off down two different hallways towards the back of the ship to ensure they did not miss the Predacons.

* * *

Megatron could hear the Maximals approaching from two different directions and he and Blackarachnia, who were both already in their battle modes, stopped in their tracks.

"Ah, the desperate charge. Just as I anticipated," he said. Then he watched the hallway directly in front of them. Suddenly, Swiftfang rounded a corner and made visual contact with both of them.

"Beast mode!" Megatron commanded his computer. He quickly changed into a Tyrannosaur, and hardly a moment later, he took off down an adjacent hall to his left. Swiftfang was perplexed to notice Blackarachnia neither transforming nor following her leader.

"Steel', Megatron's headed your direction," he informed the other Maximal on his com-link.

Blackarachnia opened fire with her machine guns, and great deal of ammo slammed into Swiftfang's frame. Thinking quickly, he opened a door to his right and retreated into the room. For a brief moment, the automatic fire continued ricocheting around the halls with vicious echoes until Blackarachnia stopped firing.

Running down the hall to where Swiftfang had retreated, she pulled out her harpoon gun and then opened the proper door. At first it revealed nothing, but then a leg came flying from behind the left side of the door's threshold and hit the Predacon's weapon-bearing arm, sending the gun flying back into the hall.

Swiftfang suddenly jumped into the air, suspended himself by gripping the entry-way's arch and one of its walls and sent a kick at the Predacon's head.

Blackarachnia expertly blocked the offending leg with her right arm and then another kick coming for her chin with her left hand. She suddenly spun inwards with amazing speed and ended the spin right next to Swiftfang's chest before sending both her forearms crashing into it.

Swiftfang was knocked soundly from his perch and onto his back on the ground.

Faster than Blackarachnia thought her opponent would react, he swiped with his right leg and knocked the Predacon off of her feet. Then, throwing himself with his arms and legs, he sent himself sliding back into the room before hastening again to his feet.

"You excel at this," Swiftfang complimented Blackarachnia.

Blackarachnia laughed with a sinister tone as she got to her hands and knees with her back faced to him. "Anyone would look good fighting you!" She suddenly sprang in a twirl, launching herself at her foe. Swiftfang prepared himself and when she was just coming in range, he sent a kick at her with his left leg.

But she repeated his trick and caught herself on the doorway. Thinking quickly, she grabbed his kicking leg with both of her feet and pulled him closer to the doorway.

Jumping down to the ground, she pressed a button on the wall to close the door again, slamming his leg between the wall and the door which was putting a massive amount of force on the leg in its attempt to close.

She grabbed the part of the leg sticking out on her side, prepared to pull it towards her and snap it right where it was being held in place. But Swiftfang opened the door from the control panel on his side, and Blackarachnia's pull served only to send him flying at her with an even greater momentum, which he used to send his other knee crashing into her face plate. Of course, she had pulled him at an odd trajectory and as soon as he made contact with his knee, he fell awkwardly to the ground.

* * *

Steelclaw saw his enemy just standing there in the hallway in beast mode- unarmed, and almost unresponsive.

"Megatron," he called, pumping his gauss rifle, "I'm pretty sure you can get back out the way you came in."

"Oh, undoubtedly," Megatron stated with a sense of earnestness and almost… glee. "Otherwise I would not have risked this venture."

Steelclaw pulled his trigger and a round slammed straight into the dinosaur's chest. Megatron was knocked off of his feet.

"Then uh… off you go," Steelclaw replied. Megatron got back to his feet feebly but surely.

"Hmm… attacking an unarmed foe. It doesn't seem very Maximal of you," Megatron contended.

"Just because you aren't holding any guns doesn't mean you are unarmed, it doesn't mean you're harmless, and it doesn't mean you're defenseless."

"A very shrewd observation. For that very reason, allow me to make my case plainly- I wish only to talk."

Steelclaw was not convinced enough to take his sights off of Megatron, but he did suppose he had no immediate reason to shoot him again.

"'Bots don't make full scale assaults to talk."

"Perhaps you don't," Megatron replied. Then he revealed a data disk between two claws. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"I know what it looks like," Steelclaw clarified. "But there a thousand things it could be."

"Then have a look for yourself," Megatron replied, tossing the disk lightly with his beast mode arm. It spun around many times in the air and then hit the ground, still spinning, and slid halfway between the Maximal and the Predacon.

Steelclaw eyed it suspiciously.

"Why don't you just tell me what information's in there right now if you want me to look through it? You've got to know I'm not touching that thing."

"Very well. It is understandable, for the moment, that you do not wish to even come close to it. But I can only tell you the nature of what is in that disk- the fullest extent of that nature must be observed by you if you truly wish to satisfy your curiosity." Then Megatron paused for a moment before continuing.

"It is, to be blunt, you. It will tell you all you need to know about who you were- what your past was truly like."

Steelclaw looked at Megatron inquisitively.

"I don't trust that disk," he asserted yet again.

"Then have Rhinox analyze it and tell you it's perfectly fine for all I care, you stubborn Maximal buffoon!" Megatron shouted angrily. Then, without any sign of shame or fear that some ruse had been destroyed, his tone softened to one that was nearly pleasant. "But you _will_ look into the disk's information," he said, pausing with a slight, contented chuckle, "I know you too well."

Without another word to the Maximal, Megatron turned his back to him and took off in the direction he had come from.

"All Predacons, fall back. Fall back," he commanded into a com-link on his shoulder, making no attempt to hide his declaration from the Maximals within the ship.

* * *

"Ooooh…" Swiftfang reeled back. He had seen the foot coming for his face, but he just couldn't react fast enough to do anything about it. Resuming a prepared defensive stance, he looked at Blackarachnia once again.

That was when the order came in from Megatron. Blackarachnia turn around immediately and ran to rendezvous with her leader. Swiftfang relaxed his stance. There was no point in chasing her.

Outside, Scorponok heard the command, and transformed to beast mode before placing Tarantulas and Waspinator- who he had previously moved closer to him and behind the partial cover of a rock- onto his back and dashing off. Not a moment too soon, apparently, as the five Maximals on the field suddenly came jogging towards their base with weapons drawn.

As he ran further North, he could see Blackarachnia and Megatron, who was carrying Inferno, coming out of the necessarily large tunnel the ant had dug under the _Axalon's_ shield perimeter before the attack had begun. Scorponok knew he'd have to go back for Terrorsaur as well, but for the moment it was important to get far enough away from the Maximals to ensure, for both parties, that the battle had truly ended.

* * *

Cheetor and Blazemane came up the elevator first- there just wasn't space for five Maximals.

"You two alright?" Rattrap asked as the glass door slid away from the platform. Then the two on that platform walked into the bridge.

"We should be," Cheetor responded and then noticeably winced. "But a few megacycles in the CR chamber wouldn't hurt."

"My beast mode's internal repairs could probably handle things," Blazemane said as he looked down at his leg. "But I suppose if nobody else needs the other chamber…"

Just then, Swiftfang walked into the bridge from the hallway. His frame bore apparent bullet holes which were bleeding small drops of mech fluid.

"Nevermind," Blazemane finished his sentence. Then the other three Maximals came up. Optimus looked over to the gun controls and noticed the chairs to them were empty. Then he looked across the room and saw Swiftfang.

"What happened here?" he asked.

"Eh," Rattrap sighed, "Megatron decided it'd be fun to play infiltrator, but I guess these two stopped him," he said, pointing behind him with his thumb. Then he turned around.

"Hey… where's Steelclaw?" he asked when he saw that only Swiftfang had returned. A few moments later, the weapons specialist came from his hallway.

"Right here," he explained. "Uh… Rhinox? We might have a problem- Megatron left something in the base."

Rhinox sighed. "Alright, let's see it." Then he followed Steelclaw back into the hall.

Optimus looked over to Cheetor and Swiftfang.

"You two get yourselves in the CR chamber," he said before following after Rhinox.


	4. More Cybertronian Events Part 1

Torcher was working through a frustrating load of computerized "paper-work" back in his own office at the E.P.F. headquarters, not long after he'd been repaired from the morning's adventures. Just as he began writing an official description of the faux medic, the door to his room slid open and Quickrim walked in.

"Hey," Quickrim greeted him. "Are you feeling improved?"

"Yup," Torcher affirmed. "So what did your group find at the hospital?"

"Well, firstly the surveillance for that whole building had been wiped out before our two perpetrators even set foot in it. So we're going to have to go off what you and the security guard saw of the two of them in addition to my brief glimpse of the warrior. And, in case you were wondering, that guard is going to be just fine too."

"Uh… what else?" Quickrim continued. "We got the 'medic's' tray of materials down to our lab. I just finished talking on my com-link with one of the examiners, and he said there wasn't a single needle the medic brought along that didn't contain a pathogenic compound."

Torcher gave a low whistle in response. Then he got an inquisitive look on his face.

"Did… is there any chance you brought my guns?"

Quickrim's look changed to one of near-guilt.

"Your weapons are being used to study the warrior's. We're detecting trace amounts of the sword's metal in one of your handguns, and the other handgun is being observed for how it got burned, which could help us determine the nature of the attacker's optic beams."

"Got _burned_?" Torcher asked.

"Unfortunately, that's better than your other gun fared."

"And just how did it 'fare'?"

"It very nearly got cut in half."

Torcher reclined further back in his chair with a look of mock-sorrow. "What did they ever do…" he muttered quietly. Then he looked back to Quickrim and became serious once more.

"So where does this leave the investigation?" he asked.

"We're going to try identifying the attackers based on what we saw of them this morning, but it's possible we won't turn up any matches. All the same, we suspect the sword carrier was one of those present in the alley attack on Galeforce due to the matching colored optic lasers. Of course, we can't guarantee that- and a criminal team with enough resources could gather two warriors with similar armament with the intention of deceiving us into thinking this was a small group."

"What's your opinion?" Torcher asked.

"I still really think we are going up against a small group," Quickrim admitted. "Because, well, for all the things they've been able to accomplish so far, and all the headaches it's giving us, they've still had to get very close and personal. They physically stole a code card from a C.D. guard instead of attempting an off site code-hack. We suspect they then walked right into the C.D. with those codes instead of using them, again, from a safe distance. But what really gets me is that they tried to take out Galeforce this morning. If they were a big group- especially one with a bounty of resources- they wouldn't have a reason to be afraid of him, even if he successfully identified who the two attackers were in the alley. They'd probably have just cut off all ties to the two attackers that night, or never even made ties in the first place- hired competent hit 'bots instead."

"This group," he continued, "however small or large, is directed with extreme intelligence- they're accomplishing astounding things with surprisingly simple methods and surprisingly sparing resources. But that's just it- their resources are obviously sparing. And they're not ashamed of showing fear."

"But that's where the trail ends for now. We don't have any idea what they want to do with the information they stole from the C.D."

"I see," Torcher spoke up. "So now we wait to see if we can identify the attackers and if we can get anything from analyzing the items at the crime scene?" he asked.

"Pretty much," Quickrim replied. Then a beeping noise began emitting from his com-link.

"They want me back at the agency headquarters," Quickrim announced. "Sorry about your guns."

"Me too."

* * *

"Why did you load your needles with cyber venom?" Dynamo bellowed from the CR chamber, even as Torcher's bullets were being removed from his chest.

From a neighboring chamber, a raspy voice echoed back. "What's that? I can't quite hear you. Tee hee hee heeheeheehee."

"You heard me perfectly well. You are a worthless, incompetent, sniveling little scientist with nothing better to do than compromise our mission," he snarled in retort.

From outside both chambers where the hapless 'bots were being repaired, a deep voice bellowed. "Silence both of you. There are far more important things to worry about now. With Galeforce still alive, and with the addition of new witnesses who have seen both of you clearly, we are going to have to work with greater speed and care."

"Now Dynamo," the voice continued, "how exactly were you overtaken by this police enforcer?"

"He was able to get a hold of one of Anaphorase's… 'prop' needles and hit me with it. I had not been informed by my illustrious comrade that there would be anything to be wary of within them," Dynamo responded. This garnered another quiet chuckle from the chamber next door which caused Dynamo to snap back.

"I will have you know that had I been aware you intended to torture our target rather than simply terminate him, I would not have been present to safeguard that mission." Dynamo paused for a moment, pondering. "I suspect that's why you never told me."

"I was also unaware of Anaphorase's intentions to make the death slow," their leader interjected. "But it was not your job, Dynamo, to determine how the Maximal was to be done away with- only to make sure that it happened."

Having already detoxified the patient inside, and having finished removing the rounds in his chassis, the CR chamber containing Dynamo opened. His own systems would be able to repair the rest of the damage he had sustained, and the Predacon group did not wish to expend any more of their energy reserves than they needed to.

Once the door was open, Dynamo was able to look directly at his leader. He was neither ashamed nor any calmer.

"Hmm…" he nearly growled. "I must voice my disagreement. You have long known that despite my agreement with your goals- with your desire for Predacon conquest- that I still have felt, even when dealing with Maximals, that my honor should never be compromised for the security of any of your plans. Not only did you order me to ensure the execution of a weakened foe, but are you telling me now, that even had you known how the Maximal was to be killed, you would have sent me regardless?"

"Exactly," the leader responded. "Dynamo, I am aware you dislike some of the ways in which I conduct my operations. But you must remember that if we are dishonorable to the Maximals, they were dishonorable to us first. And furthermore, if I begin to suspect that your guilt is compromising your ability to follow my orders, I will make sure you never have to do a dishonorable thing again."

Dynamo was fully aware of what his leader meant by this last statement, but he merely stared in response, not willing to give any conceding acknowledgement. Then again, he didn't really know how to react in the first place.

Dynamo had long been tortured by numerous inner questions. He had been hired by his leader for the complex operation which they were now in the beginning stages of, not only because he had a long history with his leader, but also because he was a skilled- hardly-matched, in fact- warrior. But among the few things even nearly as keen as his prowess in battle were his strict moral code and sense of honor. Granted, this code was not guided by the same ideals as those of his Maximal foes, but whatever he regarded as the correct thing to do in any situation, he strove to do it with unparalleled determination.

He did not always know, however, what to regard as the correct thing. It was in these instances that his leader proved incredibly influential. He had a talent for inspiring his meager (although quite capable) band, and perhaps it was in a swell of allegiance to the Predacon cause, spurred on by eloquent words, that Dynamo had been convinced to partake in the latest mission. Even then there may have been a small, innocent voice stirring up from the depths of his long-built gruffness, which pleaded with him not to ensure the killing of a defenseless being, albeit a Maximal. But along the way he probably flicked the pleading voice away, as one may do to a fly, and reasoned that real honor would have been to stand up for that which he was now fighting for. And had the voice buzzed shrilly back into his ears, the reassuring words of his leader's inspiration would have forced it back to its proper place.

But now the mission had passed, and its events had been fully examined. And so, even as Dynamo's leader continued speaking of his failure and his duty to the Predacon cause, the scrupulous voice resumed its lecture, and in response Dynamo merely stated back to it "Affirmative, affirmative."

"Anaphorase," the commander said, bringing Dynamo's attention back to the situation at hand. The scientist had also gotten out of his CR chamber. "If you are well enough, you should begin working on the compound you promised to put together. We are moving our plan ahead of schedule."

* * *

Quickrim, who was a few cycles away from his department's headquarters, was driving between a number of tall buildings and calmly pondering the case at hand, when his com-link began beeping.

Bringing up a schematic in his HUD, he realized that the 'bot who was hailing him provided no automatic identification. This fact in itself made him slightly wary, but it was an experience he had come across many times before.

"Quickrim speaking," he opened the communication and said to the unknown hailer simply.

"I have a Welker 84 sniper rifle trained in on your person." There was a moment of silence which Quickrim deduced the unknown speaker was using to let his statement run through the listener's processor. Whether he was utilizing a fear tactic or just wanted the agent to be fully aware of his situation was something Quickrim didn't have enough information to figure out yet.

"Please pull over to the side of the road at any given spot within the next 15 nano-clicks. I must have your full attention," the stranger spoke again.

Quickrim's training kicked in immediately. He knew that if someone was making threats, and then asking for the threatened party to oblige them in a manner that allowed for some flexibility, it was far more likely that the victim was being lulled into a false sense of security than that the attacker simply had lax demands.

He also knew that a sniper's vantage point in a building-crowded area could be easily limited by those same buildings. He saw an intersection near his position.

"Alright, I'll go to the side," he replied back on his com-link. Hardly a moment later, he was at the intersection, and without making any attempt to slow down, he turned hard to his right and began cruising down the new stretch of road.

"Now," Quickrim replied again, confident he had gotten away from the sniper's scope, "if you need to tell me something, I'm fully capable of listening and dri-" Suddenly his left front wheel popped, the part of the axle near it essentially shattered, and the metallic ground beneath became scorched as a powerful laser pulse burned into it.

Quickrim nearly flipped over, but as he began overturning, he transformed and began rolling lithely with the impact before eventually coming to a screeching halt on his hands, a foot, and a shin. With the immediate danger gone, he realized that his shoulder was in a great deal of pain, and he grunted as he shifted more of his weight to his right hand.

"I trust you haven't died?" the unknown speaker came in on Quickrim's com-link again. Quickrim began looking at the buildings around him as he stood on his feet, but he knew his search probably wouldn't do him any good.

"Alright, say your part," Quickrim gave in.

"You have been assigned to investigate the assault on C.D. guard Galeforce, have you not?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss any assignments I've been put on."

"That is understandable, but the question was more of an introduction to my reason for hailing you. I'm certain you are the investigator I'm looking for."

"State what you wish to and I'll be certain to pass it along to my superiors, who will then pass the information to the proper agent."

"I see you don't like to breech reactionary protocol. Respectable, I suppose. As a side note, you may wish to shunt your circulations away from your left shoulder. You're leaking fluids somewhat profusely."

"I assume you're also on a limited time table," Quickrim replied, "so if you have something to say, say it." All the same, he silently commanded his systems to shunt fluids away from the injured area.

"You have already learned that the group which assailed Galeforce accessed the Cybertronian Database. But you and your entire agency were unable to finish your investigation into what information the assailants stole."

"You talk like you know a lot," Quickrim replied, alarmed that the speaker actually did know a lot.

"The information they were after," the voice continued, ignoring Quickrim's comment, "was the defense layout for the Security Dome, which, as you know, is the location where the Golden Disk is stored. We have strong reason to believe they are going to attempt a theft."

Yeah… _right_.

"How am I supposed to believe this information is credible?"

"In your investigation of the C.D., you encountered and engaged a covert operative with characteristics of an earthen feline. He was not able to finish his investigation either due to your interference. We have since planted a mole in the assailants' group, and through his efforts we have been able to learn that it is indeed the Golden Disk which they are after."

"There was a bus full of public witnesses to that skirmish."

"He terminated a guard in the C.D., and openly admitted to doing so in a conversation you held with him. You proceeded to kick him, and he then attempted an escape out a nearby window."

"O.k," Quickrim replied simply with a neutral look and a slight head bob. There was absolutely nothing he could say against first hand knowledge like that. "So you two are clearly affiliated with one another. That having been noted, the last time I reviewed the events of that night, the agent you refer to attempted to terminate me. It's hard for me to think I'm the one you'd want to tell this information to- except for the express purposes of misleading me and my agency."

"Then let you and your agency's investigation provide whatever remaining proof you need. We can only point you in the right direction. Your group and mine are working for mutual goals, but our involvement must remain covert- we require you all to make the more public efforts."

"Yeah?" Quickrim asked. "Who do you work for then? The Predacon alliance? Some splinter group of Maximals gone vigilante?"

"We'll be staying in touch. Pull over next time."

"You didn't answer my…" Quickrim stopped when he realized the other speaker had turned off his com-link. Sighing, he looked over to his arm which had some of the previously leaked fluids running along it. Then he looked around to find some sign of what street he was actually on- he'd have to head for the nearest public transport.

* * *

A 'bot of moderate height and mostly dark grey color was staring out a window in the back of his office when a knock came at his door.

"Enter," he replied simply. He turned around and noticed an old friend open the door.

"Chromax," he observed, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We've finally been given our assignment," the green Maximal who'd just entered replied. Then he handed the other a datpad. "We're heading into space again, Optimus."

Optimus took the datapad and observed the information typed into its first virtual page.

"Well that's…" a smile began forming itself on Primal's features. "That's wonderful!" he finally announced. But he immediately took stock of the way Chromax had made the announcement. A glance up from the pad at his friend's calm demeanor confirmed his suspicions.

"Aren't you glad, too?"

"No, I am," Chromax affirmed unenthusiastically. "There's just… something odd about the last page on our mission description. Some beurocratic notes from the government I've never seen on a description before."

Optimus, now curious, went to the last page of the mission description. There was a lot of fine print written there. But there always was.

"I'm looking at it," said Optimus, "but I can't tell what's out of the ordinary."

"I don't remember where exactly, but somewhere on the page, our administration had written a note reminding us about the Enforcement Commandeering Act that was passed… some thirty stellar cycles back? Thereabouts anyways."

"You mean like a change in policy?" Optimus asked.

"No- it's the same law as it's always been. It's just never been specifically talked about on any of our assignment papers before."

Just then, another 'bot- named Norvel- walked into the office. The other two Maximals directed their attention to his arrival.

"I hear we're goin' flyin'," he said while walking up to Optimus. He noticed the datapad.

"You get a chance ta read that yet?" he asked.

"No, I-"

"Too late," Norvel said as he deftly swiped it out of Primal's hands. Then he began sifting through the pages and noticed there was an entirely different document stored on the pad, which he proceeded to open.

"Hey," he said after a few moments, "we're gettin' a new recruit?" he asked.

This was news to Optimus, but not Chromax.

"I forgot to mention it," the green Maximal replied. "Ballista is putting a new member on our standing crew. Says he's got good credentials."

"If you're done with that, I'd like to look at it," Optimus said, turning to Norvel.

"No t'anks. I-"

"Too late," Optimus interjected while stealing the pad back. "So when do I get to meet him?" he asked Chromax.

"He's actually supposed to be here in 15 cycles," Chromax responded.

Just then, all three 'bots heard a crash outside.

"Sorry, sorry," they heard through the door. There was a rather long pause before there was a knock on the office door.

"Come in," said Optimus. The 'bot outside opened the door and walked in. He was about six and a half feet tall- a bit shorter than Chromax. After standing somewhat awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments, a disorderly stack of mops behind him fell over. He winced in embarrassment as he heard them crash onto the ground.

"It's alright- just leave them," said Optimus. "So, Jubatix," he continued, reading the top of the recommendation and discovering the recruit's name. "That… is your name, right?" he asked, looking back up from the pad. "It's a bit surprising how often these things give you the wrong information."

"Yes, sir," he replied. Optimus looked back to the pad. He read the first trait for which this recruit was suggested. It read "punctuality". Well, that was one way to put it.

"I'm sorry for getting here so clumsily. I just didn't want to be late. I'm not late, right?" Jubatix asked.

"No, actually your 15 cycles early," Optimus assured him.

"Sorry," the 'bot replied. At this, Optimus smiled. This recruit seemed quite earnest.

"Hey, no need to apologize for that."

"Understood, sir."

"And you certainly don't have to say sir."

"Sorry, sir- I mean, sorry with… er, without the… just sorry. I'm just excited about this job, and I don't want to do something to lose it," he stammered out faster than Optimus had ever heard anybody say anything while stammering. He read the next characteristic on the list- "Enthusiastic."

Indeed.

* * *

Night had finally arrived by the time Quickrim got through the front doors of his agency.

"Agent E, you're late," a stern and rather perturbed voice spoke as soon as he got in the building. Quickrim looked up from the floor and discovered the source of the greeting- Agent D- who was less formally known as Arctosteel.

Having recognized his friend as the speaker, Quickrim relaxed- the other agent had clearly meant it in jest.

"I encountered a significant setback," he replied.

"I see," said Arcstosteel, recognizing the shoulder injury. "Anyways, Wirecat is waiting for you in the schematics room."

Quickrim nodded and walked to the elevator. He was a bit surprised to see Arctosteel follow after him.

"Where are you heading?" he asked.

"Schematics room," Arctosteel replied, "I've been put on this case with you."

The glass door to the elevator slid away, and both 'bots stepped onto the platform. Hardly a second later, the glass slid back, and the elevator began ascending to the second level.

"Wirecat must be growing nervous if he's decided to place you in this investigation," Quickrim remarked. Arctosteel acknowledged the comment with a slight shrug.

"Wait," he spoke up. "Was that an insult or a compliment?"

The glass slid away again, and both stepped into the now revealed hallway. Quickrim turned to his left and before he could respond, he noticed another worker motioning the pair into the proper room. "You two are a bit late," the worker remarked.

"Coming, coming," Arctosteel responded, before all three filed into the room and the worker closed the door behind them.

Inside, the lack of purposeful light sources was pierced by the blue which emanated from various monitors and glowing keyboards. The mostly dark atmosphere was preserved to allow virtual information, often displayed in a three-dimensional environment, to show up more prominently to its viewers. There always seemed to be a sense of urgency in that room.

"Agent E," Wirecat began, "have you had a chance to tend to your shoulder?"

Quickrim paused for a second before responding- he had forgotten that he had radioed into base a short time after he had been sniped.

"I'll manage fine for the time being," he finally replied.

Without another word, Wirecat pressed a key on a board next to him, and a two dimensional graphic appeared in front of the many 'bots standing in the room. The graphic depicted a rotating image of a strongly built Predacon. Quickrim recognized him as the sword-swinger from that morning. To the right of this image, a bounty of facts came up.

"Based on the eye-witness reports gained this morning and the forensic evidence from the scene at the hospital, this is our primary suspect for the time being," Wirecat announced to everyone present. "His name is Dynamo. Has a public history studying combat, military tactics and military history through legal means, but he reached the fullest potential of all of these classes more than fifty stellar cycles ago. It's likely that at that point, he sought out private training."

"We can't say that he's never committed any crimes before- in fact, he mostly like he has," Wirecat continued. "But his record is clean aside from a few minor offences committed in his formative cycles. A few stellar cycles back, however, he went completely off the grid- no official residence, no occupation, no known ties to anyone. This means that we essentially have no conventional places to seek him out, and he doesn't have any assets to be tracked by."

"At any rate, we're looking into potential suppliers for the chemicals in the other assassin's needles, and aside from that, this investigation is at a dead end until we get new information. That having been noted- Quickrim," Wirecat finally concluded, turning to the wounded agent, "you told me there was something you couldn't discuss in public when you called in about this sniper of yours. I think now would be a good time for us to hear it."

"Naturally," Quickrim replied. "Understand that I have the same reservations many of you will undoubtedly possess when you hear what I was informed of and consider the source from which it came, but it should pose an interesting new theory at the very least."

Assuming he had everyone's attention, he began to recount his story.

"The sniper first hailed my com-link and when I opened the communication, he ordered me to pull over. Refusing to do so, I drove for a side street, but this, for whatever reason, did not manage to place me out of his line of sight and he proceeded to blow out my frontal left wheel. Through the conversation that followed, he revealed openly -or perhaps instead merely claimed- that he was under the employment of the same network which sponsored the feline mechanoid I encountered in the C.D., and that this network has inserted a covert agent into the ranks of the group we are pursuing. This operative is purported to have learned that the group of thieves are going to attempt to steal the Golden Disk."

A silence fell in the room for a few moments.

"I don't like it," Arctosteel spoke up. "If this guy's crew really put someone in the thieves' group, than they know who the thieves are. And if they're against what the thieves are doing, and know who the thieves are- and even have the resources to find you, why not just take the thieves out with brute force themselves?"

"I certainly do not profess to believe my attacker's claim," Quickrim replied, "but he did mention that the 'bots he works for could only engage in clandestine resistance to the thieves' goals- that they wish for us to… I believe his exact words were 'make the more public efforts'. It is conceivable that killing this group would be too big a mess for them to clean up."

"Granted," another replied, "but there are other things ye've got to reckon with. Even if we can nay disprove that this sniper's intentions are bad, we're still no able to prove they aren't. Maybe ye were contacted by the thieves themselves- an attempt to divert our resources, or just our time? It is a wee bit convenient the files on the Golden Disk were the only ones ye saw'd been hacked when ye went in the C.D., is it no?"

"It's potentially convenient, Agent C, but that's no guarantee," Quickrim replied. "For one thing, the agent I actually met was… well, he was present," he stated the obvious, shrugging his shoulders. "What would one of the thieves possibly achieve by returning to the C.D., especially considering the risk involved with undertaking such a course of action? And if, as I then suspect, he was not of the thieves, then there is no way I could conceive- with any acceptable likelihood- that my sniper could have ascertained knowledge of the feline's presence at the C.D. without working with him, which leads me to conclude the sniper could not be a thief either."

"Agent E, your argument makes sense," Wirecat said. "I don't suspect you were contacted by a thief either. But we don't know who you were contacted by." Wirecat then spoke louder, addressing everyone. "Does anyone else have any ideas on this new information?"

Another silence followed.

"That's just as well," he said. "We should take at least a small amount of time to think through what we have so far, and we're still waiting on the results from our lab technicians on the chemicals at the hospital. I'm going to call this meeting to a close. At the latest we'll reconvene when we have something new," he concluded.

The virtual display in the room disappeared, and everyone began filing out of the room. Once Quickrim was in the hall, he leaned against a wall.

"Are you nervous?" Arctosteel said, taking him out of his thoughts.

"I'm… sorry?" Quickrim asked.

"You like to use very big words when you get nervous. I wasn't sure what language you were speaking in the schematics room," Arctosteel explained.

"I thought I always use the same set of words," Quickrim replied. Arctosteel just shook his head in response. "Well, anyways, I guess I am a little on edge about the current situation. I get uncomfortable when I don't know what my next step is meant to be."

"So," Quickrim continued, "if you're on this case now, you must have completed your previous assignment."

"Yeah- a Predacon weapons manufacturer was receiving death threats 'cause he was supplying to Maximals," he said with a shrug, which Quickrim easily noticed.

"They turned out to just be empty threats or something?"

"No, they were definitely valid. The twits stormed his plant with a small army. But they were also coming for the actual weapons in that plant, so someone helped them 'learn' that their ringleader was planning to take everything for himself."

"He wasn't actually planning on that, was he?"

Arctosteel shrugged again. "I don't know. But it was fun watching the organized militia change into an angry mob under that impression. Of course, one or two of 'em weren't mad enough and tried to continue the mission without their leader and most of their pals."

"I trust you left them alive?" Quickrim asked.

"More or less," Arctosteel replied. "Oh- that reminds me!" he said, before pulling a pump action rifle from his back. "I should probably reload." He opened a compartment on his arm and began replacing the spent cartridges in his weapon.

"Alright, well I'm going to the CR chamber," Quickrim said as he got away from the wall. "I detest snipers," he mumbled to himself.

"Hey…" Arctosteel protested.

"I am clearly referencing _enemy_ snipers," Quickrim defended as he continued walking down the hall.

* * *

Whirlpool, having been a fire department chief for a great deal of time, had long since gotten use to the smell of smoke. Even the building where he was stationed often smelled of it. But for all the times he could push the scent to the back of his mind, he still could not ignore an over-abundance of it. And so it was, that when he got to the second level and knocked on the door he was after, he sighed for a moment.

"Inferno," he called past the door into the room, "are you modifying your flame throwers again?"

It certainly seemed counter-intuitive for a fire'bot to work on pyrotechnical weapons inside his own station, but the building was incredibly fire resistant- virtually un-burnable, in fact- and perhaps for that reason, Whirlpool had put up with Inferno's antics for as long as he had.

He just didn't understand how someone could be forced to go into fiery streets, buildings- even energon bunkers- so often and not refuse to see any more flames than they had to. But then, perhaps it was really the flames that Inferno wanted to get close to in the first place. That wasn't to say Whirlpool doubted Inferno's character and his desire to rescue whoever he could- he certainly never abstained from putting the fires out and he had proven himself to be quite reliable.

"Uh…" a voice called back to Whirlpool, "yes, chief, I am. Is something wrong?"

And that was the second habit he hadn't been able to break- Inferno calling him chief. None of the other 'bots called him chief. None of the other 'bots even called him sir. He didn't like it when they did.

"No, nothing's wrong," Whirlpool replied. "Somebody's come asking for you though- says they're from the MESO."

"Ah, thank you, chief. I'll meet them in a click."

A few moments later, the door opened and Inferno walked out into the hallway, walking past Whirlpool and heading down the steps. There, in the lobby, waiting on a bench, was the aforementioned representative. He stood up as soon as he saw Inferno.

"Hello Inferno," he said, offering his hand. Inferno shook it. "My name is Frontrunner. I'm here on behalf of the Maximal Exploration Sciences Organization regarding your recent application for pod-based exploration. This won't take too long, but you can take a seat if you want."

"No, sir, I'm really fine standing," Inferno replied.

"Alright," said Frontrunner. "Well, Inferno, I'd just like to start off by saying that we reviewed your application, and after talking with the references you provided, we've decided to hire you."

Inferno took a moment to get over his initial surprise. "Uh… thank you," he replied earnestly.

"The full details of your job are covered in here," Frontrunner said as he handed Inferno a datapad. "And… that's your to keep by the way," he mentioned. "But, I'm also required to ask you- are you fully aware of the conditions and risks involved with being placed in stasis and with performing planetary exploration? If so, and if you wish to accept this job, you can either sign something I have with me right now and you'll be all set, or you can visit our main office later."

Inferno couldn't think of what exactly to say next. And then he figured that was probably the best sign of his answer.

"I think I would prefer some time to think about it, sir."

"And that's just fine," Frontrunner responded. "But please read that datapad as soon as possible. The _Axalon_ is launching soon. And that's really all I have to say for now. Thank you for your time, Inferno."

"No, thank you, sir," said Inferno. Frontrunner simply nodded in return and headed out the door before transforming into a three-wheeled vehicle and driving off.

"Well what do you have reservations for?" Inferno heard Whirlpool speak behind him. He turned around from looking at the door to face his chief.

"Well, to be honest, I feel I might be needed here, sir."

"And we all appreciate your work, Inferno," Whirpool said with an acknowledging nod. "But… you're allowed to have your own life."

"Yes, I know, chief. I suppose I wouldn't have applied if I didn't know." He paused for a moment. "I just need a little time to make-"

Inferno was interrupted when the department's bell started ringing. He immediately went to a room which stored various pieces of firefighting equipment which couldn't be carried around on a Maximal in any practical manner. All the while, he listened to one of his co-workers announce their next destination on the intercom.

Thinking over the new opportunity he'd been presented would have to wait- he had a job to do.

* * *

The door on the CR chamber in Quickrim's room opened upwards, and after moving his shoulder in a circular motion a few times to check the success of its restoration, the Maximal stepped out.

Moving to his desk, he sat down and opened his computer. It activated very quickly, and he began sifting through the official forensic reports from the hospital, which he had yet to actually read.

Then he noticed a small, rather unassuming message scrolling across the top of his screen.

_New files downloaded to Hard Drive TOK715_

Recognizing the Hard Drive to be his computer's, and his computer's alone, Quickrim froze for a moment. Then he looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he looked behind him. The right half of his room was designed to protrude further into the building so that its back wall actually touched the building's perimeter, allowing the user of the room to have a window to see the outside world.

Quickrim's window was open.

He whipped his head around to look back at his computer and he saw that the new files had been downloaded megacycles ago. Whoever had infiltrated his room must have left the window open, not in a rush to get out, but to make their presence intentionally conspicuous.

Quickrim also concluded it was probably some 'bot with flight capabilities- the agent's room was on the building's fourth floor. But that didn't really matter.

Quickrim changed a few settings in his computer to make it unable to connect to the main system in the building, and then, warily, he opened the files he had been given.

There in front of him stood the names, with photo identification, of every one of the thieves he had been hunting- or at the very least who this new infiltrator was claiming to be the thieves.

Interestingly, the attacker from the hospital who'd pretended to be a medic was decidedly absent from the list. That actually made a great of sense to Quickrim. The medic, then, would be the double agent the sniper had referenced.

Then he noticed a video file and opened it. He watched it skeptically, but with absolute attentiveness. Once he finished watching it, he opened his com-link.

"Wirecat, this is Agent E. I've discovered something you must observe."


	5. More Cybertronian Events Part 2

On a rather unremarkable street, in a less technologically graced district of Cybertron than most Maximals were used to, a lonely warehouse stood with its bare gray walls facing the night that surrounded it on all sides.

All was silent but for the distant hum of energon processors somewhere off on another part of the road, until a voice spoke in a hushed tone.

"Agent D," Wirecat said in his com-link, "are you in position?"

"Yes, sir," Arctosteel replied as he looked down the scope of his rifle at the front entrance to the warehouse.

The commander continued to confirm the readiness of all the others present.

"Agent C?"

Streetsweep took a quick glance at the troop of some fifteen Maximals behind him, all with their weapons at the ready.

"Aye," he replied after turning back to face the West side of the warehouse.

"E? Torcher?"

From behind the building, towards its North-facing wall, the pair sat in a crater that had been made on that road in some unknown event and never been repaired. Quickrim peered cautiously over the ridge of the crater to get a look at the warehouse, but Torcher crouched with his back against the crater wall, placing one last round in a magazine before sliding it firmly into place in a custom handgun. His standard issue weapons were still inoperable.

"Yes, sir," Quickrim replied for them both. Then he sunk back down out of sight. For a moment, he reflected on how everyone had gotten in this position. The video file that had been left on his computer showed surveillance of the five Predacons whose identification had also been put there. They were all busily working away at various tasks. Some of those tasks- such as weapons cleaning- were easy to see. But a lot of indiscernible work was being done on computers.

Fortunately, that was not all the value that could be found in the video file. There was only one window on the entire warehouse, but through that window, a local and entirely unique tire manufacturing plant could be seen- and the camera had recorded that plant through that window.

After it was proven that the video had never been tampered with, it didn't take long to determine the location of the warehouse based on the distance and trajectory of the tire plant that had been recorded.

Wirecat turned around to observe the five armed 'bots with him. They were prepared.

"Alright, D, send in the cutters," he ordered after turning around.

With his optics still trained inside of his scope, Arctosteel raised his right hand and made a quick beckoning motion. Two grey-painted agents of similar build walked past him on either side, each carrying a rather bulky and somewhat complicated device with a lethally sharp blade in its center.

They swiftly and quietly reached the front of the building which was, essentially, one very large door, and placed one of the devices on either side of it. Once satisfied that the machines had been magnetically attached to the warehouse, the two Maximals ran back to Arctosteel as fast as they had left him.

Wirecat tapped his neck and was rewarded with a small mechanical beep. Then he stood up.

"Attention please," he announced in a voice that was amplified to a volume far louder than any normal situation would require. But his tone remained calm and dignified. "This is the Maximal Government Investigation Division. Please vacate the building immediately."

An uneasy silence followed as everyone outside waited attentively for what would happen next. A few nano-clicks passed by and nothing did. A half a cycle later, there was still nothing to hear or see coming from inside the warehouse.

"Alright, cut the door open," Wirecat commanded over his com-link in a much quieter tone. The two 'bots who had moved to the door earlier both tapped a button on their left arm. Immediately, the devices on the door became illuminated by a series of blue lights running along their sides. A moment later, the metal on the door began to spark and make a piercing noise as the contraptions sawed through and then tracked upwards along the door.

Wirecat turned to his companions and regarded them with a simple "Bots." He got on his com-link. "Agent C, lets move into position." Then he took a step forward, and the fighters with him spread out, walking closer to the building with their guns aimed forward. Streesweep and the fifteen with him spread around the building in a similar fashion, with the heaviest concentration of troops positioned near the front door.

A little while later, the two machines were near the top of the warehouse, and then turned towards each other. They continued drilling as they moved, and finally met in the center of the upper part of the door. The respective halves of the machines which were still sealed to the part of the wall below the drilled line moved outwards. The steel door creaked as a huge section rubbed away from the rest of the building. The bottom halves of the machines then released their magnetic seal, and the sizeable slab of metal fell to the ground where it made a resounding *boom* on impact.

Inside, an assortment of machines was visible- the computers that had been shown in the video, some chemical sorters, and even two CR cambers positioned along the West wall. But there were no Predacons. Everyone who had line of sight into the building processed this for a moment before Wirecat made a simple hand motion, and the 'bots began walking cautiously inside.

There was no source of light inside save for a few green-lit buttons flickering on and off, but the Maximals' night vision revealed everything in proper detail.

No threat had made itself apparent, but there was a tense silence in the warehouse until Streetsweep broke it.

"Well, chief, what do you make 'a this?"

Wirecat had been observing the situation himself and answered quickly.

"Intelligent criminals don't ignore evidence of their work," he said, walking around and continuing to study the work in front of him. "They're either done with this place and aren't afraid of its potential implications, or they just aren't intelligent. I'm guessing…" Then he stopped in front of a container that was a little taller than him and half-filled with a green liquid.

"C, you specialized in chemical analysis. What is this?"

Streetsweep quickly ran to the south wall to observe the same tube.

"I can no tell ye what the liquid is at a mere glance. And I wouldn't reckon it a safe venture ta just open this canister- it's pressurized and there's no tellin' yet what fail-safes might have been installed ta keep us from tamperin' with it. All I can figure now is that it's probably one of oh… about five possible biological weapons. No need for immediate alarm though- I cannae see any port on the container for it to release the chemicals inside."

"Sir," an agent from Streetsweep's troop spoke up, addressing Wirecat, "we're working on getting into their computer system. There's been some resistance, but less than we thought there would be."

"Is that something to be concerned about?" Wirecat asked.

"Well, the computers are at least ten stellar cycles old, so it makes sense that way. But… it seems like these guys would've been more careful- more protective."

"Alright," Wirecat acknowledged, "well as long as there isn't any threat involved…"

At this, the hacker- Driver- shook his head.

"…then once you've accessed the systems, see if you can pull up any information on this canister over here."

Immediately after the agency leader made that statement, one of the 'bots that had set up the door cutters walked up to him.

"Sir, we've gone through the entire interior of the building. There are no escape routes but the door we came in through, and no other rooms but the one we're standing in. There aren't any weapons stored here, there's no ammunition, and no potential dangers but that chemical container you're interested in."

"Did you check the Northeast wall for that camera?"

"Yeah. It's not there anymore sir."

Wirecat put a hand to his chin.

"We're in," the hacker announced before anyone responded to the question.

"Alright, look this thing up," Wirecat commanded, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder at the container. "Agent D," he began on his com-link, "everything clear out there?"

"Yes, sir," Arctosteel replied from his position outside.

"Alright, make sure you stay on full alert. We're getting some mixed signals in here."

"Streetsweep, is this what you're looking for?" Driver asked. The agent ran up to the computer and began looking through the file that Driver had found. A little while later, he made his conclusion.

"Aye- aetheromadium." After a few more moments of observing the file, he raised an optic ridge. "That… cannae be good."

He quickly walked over to the capsule, got down on one knee, and without a second thought, tore a panel out of the bottom-center of the metallic basin upon which the container rested. There, revealed behind the now-missing panel, was a timer, and it was counting down.

It didn't take long for Wirecat to notice the situation.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"The compound in there is aetheromadium. It's an unnatural mixture which reacts violently with internal circuitry. You might think of it as a lethal, portable disruptor fluid in gaseous form. Right now it's rigged ta start coming out of the container in twelve cycles and…" Streetsweep looked at the timer again. "…thirteen clicks. If the schematics on the computer are to be believed, it'll get piped down under this floor to the energon processors under the road. It'll nay react with the energon itself, but the processor piping leads to a lot of different populated buildings."

"Can you stop the timer?" Wirecat asked.

"I can give it my best shot, but I'm a chemicist, not an-"

"Yeah," Wirecat interjected. "I've heard that one enough. Trackstomp!" he shouted.

"Sir, there is another thing you should know," Streetsweep continued, "The chemicals in this weapon bond with each other quite loosely. So after about two megacycles, the different components separate from each other enough ta render the entire thing harmless. You can tell that the chemicals are well mixed if the compound is a consistent green color."

"Which it is right now," Wirecat concluded. "So it hasn't been a full two megacycles since the thieves abandoned this place."

"In my estimation, it wasn't thirty cycles ago."

Trackstomp walked in between the two 'bots and got down on one knee too. He took a torch out from his left leg and began searing away a panel of metal to the left of the timer. Soon he discarded the piece he was carving out with a quiet metallic ping. Inside there was a mass of organized wires which he took a few moments to observe.

"Yup, that's… pretty nasty." He looked up at Wirecat. "We've got a set of circuits here which doesn't allow power to flow in any alternate pathways. I cut one wire here, and, uh… where's that tool?" he said, muttering the last part to himself. After a small time of searching various compartments on his arms, he found what he was looking for and tore off a series of ten screws that were running up the tube's metal side. He buried an optic as close into the contraption's internal circuitry as he could and nodded for a moment before taking his face back out.

"As I was saying, I cut one wire and" -here he ripped the entire alloyed cover of the tube's side away- "this thing uh…" He looked and saw three wires from the collection near the bottom running up near the top and connecting to a small explosive. "…it'll just release the gas out here instead. It's uh… well, it's better news for the local Cybertronian public, but not so much for us, right?"

"Right," Wirecat affirmed needlessly. "Unless of course we were at a safe distance."

"Sir?" Streetsweep asked.

"Close this warehouse off, get everyone outside and blow the canister remotely?"

There were a few moments of silence before Streetsweep replied again. "D'nay use logic on me."

"Alright, everyone," Wirecat announced in a loud voice. "Wrap up and head outside. We're putting the front door back up and then we've got to let this chemical weapon out. Let's go!"

The rest of the 'bots began rushing carefully to put away various pieces of collection and analysis equipment before walking out over the fallen slab of metal at the front. Wirecat placed a charge of his own on the tube's glass and then did the same.

The task of putting the door back up was simple enough. Some went outside to what used to be the door's top to push it inwards while four others- among them Streetsweep- pulled the door inwards. When it was about halfway through the threshold, those near the top began lifting. Once they had it above their heads, they began pushing instead, while those inside pushed the bottom, so that the whole construction began rotating back into its proper place. Once finally there, the welding began on both sides, to make the seal airtight once more. Those who remained inside would simply walk out a standard-sized door on the same wall (which the Maximals had avoided for fear of infiltrating hostile territory through a choke-point).

While this was being done, Arctosteel noticed Wirecat- who was now standing next to him- musing to himself. He decided to present an idea of his own.

"Sir, a chemical weapon isn't exactly a small threat, but I was thinking with the jobs our enemy band has been taking on, they're ultimate goal would be something different."

"Me too," the leader confessed.

"And my vision isn't perfect, but from my vantage point I didn't see any weapons in there."

"There weren't any."

"What kind of machinery?"

"Somewhat antiquated computers and two CR chambers."

"Still enough evidence to identify them as the 'bots we saw in the video?" Arctosteel pressed again.

"Most likely."

"So on one hand, it seems like they knew we were coming. But if that's true, why didn't they destroy their own evidence instead of setting up an attack on the civilian population?"

"It's possible they discovered the leak in their group, which would also present the possibility they knew they'd been caught on film. And if that's true, hiding their identities would be futile now. Streetsweep says that with the condition of the chemical in there, they only left about half a megacycle ago. If we were that close to them, they probably left in a rush- this gas is a way for them to buy time."

"Yes," Arctosteel conceded, "but are they buying time to find a new place to hide, or to make their final move? Whether they knew about the leak or not, they still left evidence of who they were behind. And if they didn't know we were after them, and thus assumed this attack would be successful, they had to know we'd find the source of the attack- this warehouse, with all of its incriminating evidence- with all haste.

"So far," he continued, "as I've already said, the thieves have done unfortunately incredible things. But they've got to know their chances of operating on this planet are slim with their identities known. It seems logical to me that their best opportunity for doing… whatever it is they plan to do, is right now."

At the warehouse, the 'bots at the door were nearly done securing its seal. Feelings of anticipation grew- especially for those still on the inside- until the last cut place in the metal was welded shut.

That's when Streetsweep, and the other three with him, heard a beep come from behind them. Judging by the noise, they all instinctively looked to the gas filled tube, and then down at its timer. Where cycles should have remained, there were instead only three nano-clicks.

"Wirecat, blow the glass!" Streetsweep shouted on his radio as all four of the 'bots ran for the door. "Blow the glass!" The timer went down to two nano-clicks.

Without putting his knowledge into clearly definable sentences, he derived the truth about the canister with a speed that often comes in moments of sudden urgency. Once the pipes below opened up, the pressurized gas would shoot into them so quickly that any puncturing of the glass would be too late.

And he knew immediately what he must do.

"Maximals?" he asked pleadingly because of the haste with which he knew he must ask, but with resolve all the same.

The timer went down to one nano-click.

Though not in perfect unison, all three nodded- even the one who was just then reaching for the door's handle.

Streetsweep pulled the automatic laser rifle from off of his leg and immediately shattered the glass into a thousand irreconcilable shards.

The substance inside depressurized and filled the entire warehouse as the timer hit zero.

Silence filled the room as the four Maximals looked at each other. One then wordlessly sat down, leaning his back against the West wall. The one by the small door followed suit. Streetsweep walked deliberately over to them- for he could feel himself powering down- and then joined them on the ground. The last trooper began to sit, but realized he was going to touch the South wall, and, unwilling to pose any threat of knocking over the replaced door, turned on his feet on his way down, landing with his back faced to the West wall. Then he slid the rest of the way to actually lean against it.

"Streetsweep?" Wirecat's voice came in on the agent's com-link.

"I'm here," he replied calmly.

"What's going on in there?"

"The weapon has been released in ta the warehouse, sir," he reported, this time somewhat slowly.

There was a short silence.

"Agent C... all of you… I, I'm sorry."

"Sir, I've another thing to report," Streetsweep replied. His optics went dim for a moment and then flashed back on.

"Go on."

"I'm no thinkin' it's aetheromadium. I mean, the computer file I read clearly claimed it was in the container, but the…" He was beginning to ward off stasis lock. "…the symptoms are wrong…"

"Streetsweep," Wirecat protested.

"My circuits…" the agent continued, "my circuits should be shorting out… but instead I'm just... losing consciousness." A loud humming sound occurred- his systems giving out- and Wirecat heard the other end of the com-link go dead. Soon the same happened to the other three.

Wirecat looked to his side and saw that Arctosteel's optics were finally away from his scope- his face buried in one hand. The leader immediately began giving orders to those around.

"Chipper, contact HQ and get them to extend the restriction time for this area. Jumpdrive, prepare a team and start transporting our equipment back- Arctosteel, assist him. Headsup, get a chemical analyst down here. Treadstock-"

He was suddenly interrupted by the beeping of his com-link.

"Wirecat, this is HQ. Please come in."

"Wirecat here," he responded.

"Sir," the voice came from the other end, "we're getting a distress signal from the Security Dome."

"What's going on there?" he asked, immediately ignoring any disbelief he might have been experiencing.

A few moments passed.

"HQ?"

Nope.

"Torcher!" he shouted to the police-'bot. Torcher turned away from speaking into his arm and acknowledged Wirecat with a glance.

"Has your station contacted you about a distress signal?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, "they want me to get over there right now."

"Quickrim, go with him. Arctosteel?"

"Sir?" The agent said as he finished placing one of the door cutters on Jumpdrive's flatbed.

"There's a problem at the Security Dome. Head over there with Torcher and Quickrim."

"Yes, sir," said Arctosteel. "You didn't… catch what the problem was?"

"Not from our agency- Torcher can debrief you on the way," he explained.

Without another word, Arctosteel transformed into a stocky black four-wheeler and joined the other two, speeding down the road into the west.

"Trackstomp," Wirecat called, "can you come here? I think we might have a communications problem."

* * *

Megatron had dreamed of this night for longer than he wished to remember. He had assembled the team for it, plotted out the steps necessary for its preparation, and now that it was finally upon him, he could already feel success washing over him as though he'd succeeded before he'd begun.

There, at the end of a bridge behind one locked gate, stood the Security Dome. Though the land was dark, the disruptor fluid below the bridge glowed with a strong light, illuminating the building's features. It stood proud and imposing against the night, daring any intruders to get past its defenses. But Megatron's prize lay inside, and he would not be deterred. The Golden Disk would be his.

Presently, he stood with five others behind a beaten-down wall of an old brick building (though stones are not a natural feature of Cybertron, the peace between Predacons and Maximals had afforded them the opportunity to restore their planet in the wake of the Great War. To that end, they did, at times, use alien resources).

"Anaphorase," he called to one of them, "are you certain of the timing of your… 'interference'?"

"Absolutely. The Maximal government should be no problem for us."

"Then let us begin," said Megatron. "Screech. Stingbyte."

The two Predacons- one tall and red, the other slightly shorter and grey- saluted and left the cover of the building, dragging an unwieldy case behind them on a set of wheels. A short while later, they were at the gate. One of two guards greeted them from behind shatterproof glass.

"Is there something I can do for you two?"

"We're from the CCCTMP," the grey one replied. "We were told there was a problem with the radio at the Dome's gatehouse."

The guard looked at the case the two were carrying. Etched into its sides was the company logo "CCCTMP."

"Yeah, it's definitely been giving us problems. Can I see some i.d.?"

Screech and Stingbyte both produced small pads from which proceeded holographic images detailing the identities of two workers from that company.

Sufficiently satisfied, the guard unlocked the door to the armored room. The door swung inwards, and Screech moved into the threshold. He began lifting the case into the room. Then the second guard spoke up.

"You two going to need any help in here?"

Screech pulled out a hand-blaster.

"No."

Without another word he shot the guard who had offered three times in the chest, point blank. The other deployed a laser while reaching for an alarm, but he was answered with a shot in the chest as well, and then one right to the head. Quite suddenly, Screech fell to the ground with electricity running all over his frame- the first guard down had embedded a charged prong into his leg. But Stingbyte was inside in a flash, and slammed the crane on his back into the 'bot's face plate with crushing force.

Screech stood up weakly, and then got on his com-link.

"We're in."

* * *

It had turned out that Torcher had no further information to give to either Arctosteel or Quickrim. The police had received a call for help from the Security Dome, but the call itself was not specific- maybe that meant some worker had accidentally triggered an alarm, or maybe it meant that the situation at the Dome was so bad that a distress signal was all that could be sent. Either way, there was nothing that could be done at the moment, so the three drove in silence for a while.

It was in that silence that their thoughts all eventually turned to the warehouse, and the four Maximals who now lay inside. If the gas wasn't what they'd expected it to be, what were their final moments like and what did they go thinking of? And wasn't their more time left on the capsule?

But none of the trio voiced their questions, for their comrades wouldn't know anything more about the situation, and with another mission right in front of them, it was not time to grieve.

Then it came into view in the distance- the Security Dome. One left turn, and three were on the road, running from east to west, upon which lay the Dome's gate.

They decelerated as they drove down the street, coming to a complete stop right in front of the gate before transforming to their battle modes. Torcher walked up the gatehouse and pulled out an i.d. badge. A grey 'bot walked up to the glass from inside.

"Sir," he began, activating his badge's hologram, "I'm Torcher from the E-P-F, and this is Arctosteel and Quickrim, agents of the M-G-I-D. We were informed of a distress signal coming from inside the building."

"Yeah there was, and we're terribly sorry about that," the 'bot replied. "We had a visitor stay in after hours, and he activated one of our emergency signals. Something about… protesting against government interference and 'now we were going to see how intrusive they are' or some ramble along those lines."

"Boy, I'm hurt," Arctosteel quipped.

"Well, anyways, false alarm," the 'bot concluded. "We sent a message back to your station, if you wanna'…"

"I'm sorry," Torcher said, "hang on a second." He was opening a communication that was being sent to his com-link. "Torcher here."

"Torcher, the signal was a false alarm," an operator on the other end informed him.

"Yeah, I just got told so over here. I'm going to head back with Quickrim to the warehouse."

"Understood," the operator responded.

Then the line went dead, and Torcher deactivated his end of it.

"I guess we go back then?"

"Well, there's one thing," Arctosteel said. "Sir," he addressed the gatekeeper, "can I see you i.d.? When I get back to HQ, I'm going to have to file a report about this. I just need to know your name for technical purposes."

The gatekeeper stared at him for a few moments.

"Sir?" Arctosteel asked.

"Oh… right… my i.d. Sorry, it's been an interesting night." He unlocked the door to the gatehouse.

And when the door swung open, Screech was there with a gun pointed straight at the trio. He wasted no time and fired straight at Arctosteel. The agent reacted quickly and moved to his left, but he still took a shot to his right shoulder and stumbled backwards where he fell to the ground.

Quickrim and Torcher immediately pointed their weapons at the Predacon, but he closed the door just as their shots slammed into its armored frame.

"Predacons, attack!" a voice called from seemingly out of nowhere. Then Megatron and the other three thieves stepped out of their cover from down the street in the west.

The Predacon leader fired a large laser at the center of the group, which happened to be Quickrim. He ducked under this and began firing back with his wheel-mounted quasar guns. One shot seemed to hit a tan 'bot in the group, and for a moment, Quickrim remembered him as the swordsman they had confronted in the hospital. But an incoming salvo of lasers, torpedoes and machine gun fire quickly obscured any further analysis of the team and whatever proper aim Quickrim might have hoped to exercise.

The distraction provided by Megatron's ambush allowed the two inside the gatehouse to open its doors again. Torcher saw this in his peripheral vision and quickly turned to his right, unloading five rounds in Stingbyte's direction. Two made contact- one with an arm, and the other with a hip, but the other three ricocheted inside and outside the gatehouse's doorframe. Screech leaned over his teammate and began blasting at the trio of Maximals- far too close for comfort. Torcher took a shot in the side.

"We have to get to cover," Arctosteel shouted over the sound of the weapons before firing his shotgun in the Predacons' direction and pumping again. "We're in a bad spot out here." He turned and, wincing from the recoil of his weapon- for he'd still been firing with his right arm- put his next shot into the wall of another brick building to his left. There was a deep, satisfying sound as the bricks in the wall collapsed inwards, forming a small hole.

"Come on," he said, shifting southward the short distance to the wall. The other two, still firing at their selected groups, went with him. Arctosteel rammed into the wall with the full force of his own body, and came through to the inside. Just then, a twin-laser hit Quickrim directly in the armor in front of his spark and sent him flying backwards. Torcher, who was about to go through the wall, ran over to him. While he was grabbing Quickrim's arm to help him get himself off the ground, the weapon in his left hand ran out of bullets. Allowing its clip to fall to the ground below, he slid the weapon down his left forearm, where another fully loaded magazine was waiting, pointed slightly outwards. He immediately resumed firing.

Quickrim regained his footing and sent off another quasar blast before following Torcher through the whole in the wall.

Inside, Steelclaw was unfolding the hinged compartments of a sniper rifle.

"Y'know," Torcher remarked, "I think that Pred' was actually mocking you two when he talked about intrusive government."

Quickrim eyed the sniper rifle, which was now completely assembled. Arctosteel was putting a round in it. "You have a plan?" he asked.

"That hole in the wall," Arctosteel replied without looking up, "is our choke point. I'm gonna climb the stairs in this building and get an elevated vantage on these slaggers. I need you two to keep 'em out while I'm getting there."

The cop and the agent nodded their agreement and immediately moved to the wall while Arctosteel stood up and started running for the stairs at the back of the room.

"E-P-F, this is Torcher," he shouted into his com-link before leaning slightly into the hole. Megatron and the three with him couldn't have been thirty feet away. He fired three rounds at Megatron's chest, and all three found their target, but the Predacon didn't fall. Torcher leaned back into the wall not a moment too soon as a purple laser carved through the air where his head had been, taking a off a small piece of brick along the hole's edge. "Send back up."

Quickrim set his quasar weapons to automatic and blasted at Screech and Stingbyte, who were closing in from the North. The storm of shots that followed was not very accurate, but it contacted the ground and made burn marks in all manner of places. Screech took a shot to the leg, and both he and Stingbyte hit the ground, protecting their heads. Quickrim kept his right arm firing in their direction, but essentially ignored them as he turned his left arm to the other four Predacons. This larger crew was harder to miss, and many of them faltered and stumbled as shots rammed into their chassis.

"E-P-F," Torcher shouted again while coming to grips with the fact that the words he was shouting at that very moment were futile. His station would have already responded. Their com-links were being cut off. "Do you read me?"

Stingbyte noticed Quickrim's diverted attention and shot off a rocket which barreled into the agent's right side and erupted into a fireball. This sent Quickrim away from the wall in a spiral, and he landed on his back before skidding backwards a few feet.

Torcher could only hope his partner was fine, and leaned in front of the hole again, with both handguns drawn. It was as that very moment that Screech and a yellow and green Predacon began flying upwards with their gaze on a floor of the building above. They were going for Arctosteel.

Torcher, realizing this, began firing on the two fliers with both of his weapons. A storm of machine gun bullets came his way, impacting with the wall, the interior of the room, and Torcher himself. But he had to stay and fire, he reasoned, because if Arctosteel was taken out, their one strategic advantage would be gone.

The Predacons were climbing quickly, but Torcher's ammunition eventually caught up with Screech. A few hit the Predacon in the chest, and one in the chin, and this shocked him into ceasing his ascent. From there, he was easy enough to hit, and even as one of Megatron's lasers hit Torcher's left knee and made him buckle on that leg, he unloaded both of his magazines on the flier.

He reached across his chest to reload one of his weapons, but before he had even brought that weapon back, another of Megatron's lasers scorched his chest, knocking him off his feet and spilling some blue mech fluid from that area. For a second he was out of line of sight of the Predacons, but he heard the sound of torpedoes, and the subsequent booming of the floor above him getting demolished. A few of the bricks from the ceiling fell to the floor, and outside, chunks of the wall of the building's second level crumbled onto the street below.

* * *

Near the top of the Security Dome, there was a rimmed ring which ran around its exterior, provided a walkway for sentries to view the bridge and the street it led to. The sound and flashing lights of weapons in the distance had naturally sent those who were posted there into action.

"Connector, have you been able to contact anyone inside yet?" one of the guards near the center of the walkway called.

"Nah. I'm tellin' ya, our com-links aren't workin'." Connector called back.

"O.k., fine. Get inside and tell someone in the-" The 'bot's words were cut off as half of his head seemed to shatter and he fell forcefully against the wall behind him.

The other six sentries immediately deployed their weapons or retrieved them from subspace and looked around for the source of the bullet which had taken their companion down.

That was when another sentry- one who was close to a door to the Dome's interior- caught a round in the chest. It hadn't hit his spark, but it took a fair amount of circuitry and fluid with it, and the sentry collapsed into stasis lock.

"We got a snipah!" Connector shouted. "Hit the deck!"

Everybody listened to the command- the metal rim around the walkway was definitely tall enough to keep them out of sight if they weren't standing up. But one 'bot listened too slowly, and as he was coming down, a shot came spiraling into his right hip, devastating its internal mechanics. He fell the rest of the way to ground with a grunt of pain, and once there, held a hand to the place where he'd been hit.

* * *

With a sense of urgency, Torcher picked himself off of the ground and ran to the back of the room to Quickrim.

"You feeling alright?" he asked before turning to face the opposite wall and firing a few more rounds through the hole at no particular target.

"Affirmative," Quickrim said, inspecting the seared metal on his side for a moment, "I'll manage for the moment." Then he looked back to Torcher. "We must vacate this building with all haste."

"What about buying Arctosteel time?"

"We've granted him everything we're capable of," Quickrim answered. He then turned to face the back wall and walked a few feet to an old dusty door, which he kicked out. It broke off of its hinges and landed in the abandoned lot behind it. "Come on."

As if to emphasize Quickrim's notion, a grenade of some unknown capability flew into their room and landed on the ground before bouncing a few times. Torcher was out of the door behind Quickrim too soon to see the grenade detonate, but the whole building seemed to shake with explosion, and all manner of dust and shrapnel flew out of the open threshold mere inches from the cop.

"Now how should we proceed?" Quickrim asked.

"I want to get more officers down here, but something's jamming my com-link. In my experience with communication technology, a 'bot can't fit a jammer on himself- they've got to have something set up around here."

"The building from which they first appeared?" the agent guessed.

"That's what I'm thinking," Torcher replied. "We might not be able to take these guys ourselves, but if we can smash that thing and get in touch with reinforcements, we might keep 'em from getting away."

"I agree," Quickrim said.

"Alright. I've got longer range, so I'll keep 'em busy," said Torcher, inspecting a partially used magazine before replacing it with a fresh one. "You get to the building and take out the jammer."

Quickrim simply nodded.

"I'd just like to say," Torcher remarked with a slight pause, "that was the worse choke point I've ever defended."

Quickrim managed a half smile at the quip before speaking.

"Well, then, let us proceed."

Torcher gave one nod, and then they both started running in opposite directions.

The next building to the east was a considerable distance away, so when Torcher came from behind cover, he had a long way to run. Megatron's band, which had by now consolidated into one group, took notice of the cop and immediately began firing at him. Noticing the sound of incoming munitions, he turned and ran sideways while firing off with both of his weapons. Many of the Predacons shots flew harmlessly by, but eventually he was sent careening into the ground by a warhead which landed right by his feet.

For a while, he didn't move, and the enemy firing ceased. Then he weakly pushed himself onto his hands and knees.

"We've wasted enough time already," Megatron concluded. "Polis, finish him, and then regroup with us."

But the Predacon leader knew something was amiss. Then it hit him- the other agent. Turning on his heat vision, he soon detected a form moving westward behind the cover of the street's architecture.

"Dynamo, deal with the other," he commanded. Dynamo growled in affirmation and began running west.

"Predacons," he addressed the rest of his crew, "advance."

* * *

Connector watched as the other sentries crawled to the doors on opposite ends of the partial-ring, two of them dragging the one with the injured hip. He, meanwhile, got over to a large artillery unit at the center of the ring.

"So you want a long distance relationship, ah?" he spoke to his unseen foe. He climbed into the seat, and was soon sitting with a view over the metal rim. The gun he was manning had a durable window upon which various targeting systems appeared virtually. He flinched for a second as a bullet ricocheted venomously off of that window. But the glass stayed in tact.

The gun began determining the sniper's location based off of the trajectory from which it had been hit while Connector started charging its ammunition- it was, essentially, a giant laser.

But while the gun began turning to a brick construction across the sea of disruptor fluid, Connector noticed movement on the bridge. There were four intruders- though one looked pretty thoroughly beaten- running across, and towing some sort of case with them.

The sentry didn't like the idea of leaving a sniper unattended, but it was these runners who were the real threat, so he set the battery to target them instead. The gun leaned down at the bridge, and Connector bent down closer to its controls in case the angle might have exposed him to the shooter.

That's when he heard a horrible creaking noise, and saw sparks begin to fly from the bottom of the weapon. Suddenly, it began leaning unevenly to its left and came to rest in an awkward sideways position. Connector held on the whole time, and then tried to rotate it with manual controls, but it wouldn't budge. Its rotators had been shot out somehow.

Connector threw himself back to the ring's floor. He'd have to get inside now- he was of no use up there.

* * *

Polis walked resolutely towards Torcher with his missile launcher outstretched in his right hand. The cop just managed to put his second foot on the ground when the Predacon fired and hit him in the same part of the chest Megatron had scorched with his laser. The Maximal's body was jerked to the left, and then he fell weakly to the ground once more.

Torcher now lay motionless on the ground, smoke drifting off of his frame, but Polis continued to advance. When he reached the Maximal, he saw one hand hanging limply open with a gun lying just next to it on the ground. Satisfied the threat had been taken care of, Polis turned around. But after he took a few steps, a mechanical sound echoed from behind him.

He whipped back around to see Torcher leaning on one knee- and on each of his shoulders was a mini-gun.

The Maximal opened fire, engulfing Polis in a sea of sparks as rounds bounced into and off of his frame, while empty casings spilled off to both sides of Torcher in an angry torrent.

The Predacon turned, unable to take the rounds with his front side, and began running as the bullets inexorably crashed into him. He stumbled for a moment, and then transformed into a small jet with a speed that betrayed his desperation before flying off to join the rest of his comrades.

Torcher allowed himself to fall forward, back onto the ground. On a whim, he turned on his com-link, hoping to contact his station. But the com-link was still dead.

"Stasis lock, commencing," his computer announced with no other warning.

"Emergency mode," he demanded.

"Emergency mode not suggested for current-"

"Ah, shut up," he interrupted stubbornly.

"Emergency mode stasis lock, commencing."

As his systems powered down, he looked ahead and saw the gate in front of him wide open. The Predacons were just about to reach the Dome.

* * *

"There… doesn't appear to exist any back-door in this location," Quickrim muttered to himself after arriving at his destination. But when he looked up, he noticed a rather weak looking window in top right-hand corner of the wall.

He leapt for a partially exposed exhaust pipe, and after grabbing a hold of it, hoisted himself up just far enough to get one foot on top. He vaulted off of that foot with desperate speed (for there was no time to properly balance on the small piece of metal), and just managed to catch his hands in the brick indentation provided for the window.

Pulling himself up, he rammed through the window with his head, and slid the rest of his body inside the building, allowing gravity to pull him to the floor below. On the way down, he somersaulted to ensure that he landed on his feet, and then rolled onto his back upon landing to soften the impact, before rolling back up to a standing position.

Then he held his charred side with a grimace.

"Let's try not to venture too many fancy moves, yes?" he muttered to himself once more.

At the other end of the room, he could see a purple device somehow placed on the wall, with antennae standing out of it. He immediately pointed a quasar wheel at it.

But his hand was ripped violently out of the way by a familiar pair of emerald lasers. Dynamo was standing in the doorway. A moment later, he pulled his sword and shield from his back and began advancing.

Something stirred in Quickrim- whether it was courage, defiance, or hatred- that told him to confront the swordsman then and there; to grab each blade of the rotating shield that the Predacon seemed so fond of and bend them out of shape and then send a fist straight into his faceplate.

But stellar cycles of training kicked in, and he remembered not only that his foe would not be so easily taken, but also that defeating the Predacon was not his objective in and of itself.

So he waited until Dynamo came to him. The Predacon swung his sword in a powerful sideways arc, but Quickrim ducked underneath and rolled past his enemy's right side. Coming quickly to a stop on his hands and feet, he swept with his right leg, and battered Dynamo's legs out from underneath him. Then he sprung forward towards the front of the building to begin running- not quickly enough to avoid the sword that sliced cruelly into his left foot.

Still, once he was in a running position, he headed for the door, and on the way, he blasted at the jammer on the wall. For a moment, he saw it fall apart in a fireball before he transformed into his vehicle mode and drove out over the threshold.

"Coward!" Dynamo shouted indignantly. He followed his words with a shot at the vehicle driving away from him, knocking out some of the glass in the back of his target. But Quickrim quickly turned right and drove out of sight down the road. Dynamo scrambled angrily to his feet and gave chase.

Quickrim sped quickly past a number of buildings on his right until he came in front of the bridge with its opened gate. He would have peeled down that bridge as fast as his wheels would carry him had he not seen something else.

"Torcher!" he shouted. The cop was lying on the ground, surrounded by a heap of shell casings and gleaming slightly from streaks of mech fluid lining his frame.

The Maximal agent transformed into robot mode with a pained grunt, but before he could run to his friend, Dynamo stormed out of the construction down the road.

Quickrim turned his body in that direction, deployed the undamaged weapon on his left arm, and tried his best to stand straight. Perhaps it was time to confront the Predacon after all.

But Dynamo only got one building closer before a heavy round buried itself in Quickrim's left shoulder, carving out of his right side with devastating force. He was in stasis lock before he hit the ground.

Dynamo slowed his enraged pursuit and jogged up to the agent. He looked at him for a moment and then sheathed his sword.

"It would not have been my victory," he spoke to an un-attentive audience. Then he transformed and began driving down the bridge.

* * *

The warning from the sentries gave the Dome enough time to lock the front doors. But Stingbyte hacked his way into the external security system and opened them in less than a cycle. A number of 'bots waited in the foyer with loaded weapons for the thieves to storm in. But instead, the Predacons sent their cart careening in. It stayed rolling on its wheels for a while, but then it fell on its side and skidded to halt right before the front desk.

Those inside wondered what had just been thrown at them when a burst of green gas suddenly emitted from the box and filled the room. A few 'bots retreated behind doors into adjacent hallways, but many were less fortunate, and fell into stasis lock.

The Predacons, having previously been inoculated, then walked into the foyer, ignoring the prevailing sound of warning sirens. Stingbyte got to the front desk and began working a number of tricks- negating the Dome-wide lockdown, shutting off automated weapon systems and cutting of any forms of communication that didn't rely on radio transmission. Anaphorase, meanwhile, up righted the gas case and discarded the metal shells of its first containment layer, which was now empty.

Megatron picked up a plasma-firing gatling gun from one of the unconscious guards. Yes, that _would_ do nicely.

For a few moments, Torcher's vision was blurred, and colorless. Then things flashed into focus and normal color returned. His systems had taken the time they needed to shunt fluid to different lines in his chassis, basic repairs had been started, and now he was being woken up: emergency stasis.

He noticed a sound coming from his right arm, and after a few confused moments, he remembered that he had not turned off his com-link before going into stasis lock. Now it had turned itself back on.

Then he realized something else- he wasn't getting static.

He got to his feet, feeling a lot more pain than he had when he'd gone offline, and then he called into his station.

"HQ, this is Torcher at the Security Dome, requesting immediate back up."

"We read you Torcher," an operator responded. Then she continued somewhat informally. "What's going on over there?"

"Six Predacons have infiltrated the Dome with possible intent to steal the Golden Disk."

"Help is on its way. Don't take any unnecessary risks."

"We'll see," Torcher responded before closing the conversation.

He took a wide glance at the battlefield around him, and soon he saw Quickrim lying on the ground, an absolute wreck.

It was clear from his heat signature that he was only in stasis lock, so there wasn't cause for too great an amount of alarm, but he would still be in trouble without proper medical attention.

Then he remembered. There was someone else he should check on. Limping back the short distance to the place where he and Quickrim had tried to buy Arctosteel time, he went through the back door. The staircase, which had been complete earlier, was now missing a few steps after the grenade explosion in the room, but Torcher managed to scale it. There was a metal bar leaning diagonally across the expanse of the doorway at the top of the stairs, and he ducked underneath as he walked through.

The second level looked just as mutilated as the room below, likely a result of the aerial attack by the Predacons. But after a quick scan, he found Arctosteel at the other end of the room, still lying on the ground with an optic pressed through his rifle's scope.

But if he was in operating condition, why had he not-

Torcher un-holstered a handgun from its magnetically sealed position on his left leg and pulled its slide backwards.

"Arctosteel," Torcher spoke at a normal volume, but somewhat sternly, "what are you doing?"

The agent turned around. Upon seeing Torcher with his weapon pointed his direction, he laid his rifle on its side carefully, and slowly stood up.

"I wonder," he replied, "what are you doing?"

"My question first," Torcher answered coldly.

"Well, uh… it might not make you happy to hear, but I'm sniping. I might guess your next question will be 'who', and, well- the sentries at the Dome, my long time friend Quickrim. I'm, uh, I'm essentially defecting."

Torcher took a step closer with his weapon still pointed forward, uncertain what exactly to do next.

"But what are you doing?" Arctosteel asked again.

"I'm looking down my sights at a traitor."

"Well, yeah, I know that part. I mean- maybe more specifically- why?"

Torcher's next answer came without a moment's hesitation.

"I want to defend the innocent, stop scumbags, let the average Cybertronian come online each morning without fear."

"And if I told you I only wanted the same thing?"

"Get on the ground," Torcher commanded.

"I don't think you're listening to me," Arctosteel noted.

"Get on the ground," Torcher repeated louder.

Without another word, Arctosteel reached for the shotgun on his back. Torcher opened fire before the agent even managed to touch his weapon. Nine rounds slammed straight into Arctosteel's chest, each one making his frame jolt, until he fell backwards out of the front of the building.

Torcher turned around and walked back down the stairs as he replaced the magazine in his handgun with a fresh one. Then he went back through the first floor. When he was just about to come onto the road, he noticed Arctosteel waiting for him and he ducked back inside just as the agent fired, knocking down more of the few bricks that remained in the wall. Arctosteel pumped his weapon and Torcher deployed his mini-guns again. Then he stepped out.

Arctosteel got a clean shot on him, and he was thrown back, but he braced himself on the building's Northeast corner and remained standing. Then he let loose.

Sparks engulfed Arctosteel much like they had done to Polis, but unlike the latter, Arctosteel faced the ammunition. And in response, he grabbed a grenade launcher. His shot went into Torcher's right shoulder and blew him backwards so hard that he hit the corner again, but spun clockwise and continued going backwards a small distance. As he was lying on his back, with fire lapping out of the damaged shoulder, he realized the grenade had taken out one of his mini-guns. Then his computer issued an ominous warning.

_Ammo explosion imminent._

"I'm sorry," Arctosteel said quickly with an expression that actually seemed to Torcher quite earnest. Then he ran west as fast as he could.

"Dump ammo reserves!" Torcher barked to his computer.

As the shells began falling out of his shoulders, Torcher sprang up, ignoring the pain that pulsated through his system, transformed into a motorcycle, and chased after Arctosteel.

His front tire had been shredded in one of the many insults his body had taken that night, but Torcher still caught up to Arctosteel, and rammed into his legs, knocking both of them down.

Torcher gracelessly transformed and grabbed Arctosteel's foot, taking him down just as he was about escape again. The way he figured, he had no intention of dying from an ammo explosion, and if he survived as he intended, he'd be weakened against an enemy with superior firepower. If he could just keep the fight close quarters…

The last of his rounds fell to the road below, providing him a brief moment of relief. But a few strong kicks to his faceplate forced him to relinquish his grasp. Arctosteel took off again, and this time, he transformed to gain greater speed.

That's when Torcher noticed something- his opponent had dropped his grenade launcher. He wasted no time in getting to it in spite of the injuries which slowed him down. Once the launcher was in his grasp, he pumped it and took a shot down the road.

The grenade fell a little lower than the back bumper Torcher had hoped to hit, but the effect was far more devastating. The explosive detonated right underneath Arctosteel, and in a flash, he was flipping on the road until he careened through the fence into the disruptor fluid below.

Torcher took a moment to realize what had just happened, and then he visibly relaxed his stance. With a bit of effort, he turned and looked at the Dome.

"Stingbyte," Megatron commanded, "you had better hurry up!"

Gas had filled almost the entire Dome- a feat the Predacon leader didn't quite understand the mechanics of, but was glad for.

The thieves virtually had free reign inside after that- it was just a matter of unlocking the chamber where the Golden Disk was contained since that place had a security system completely separate from the Dome's.

And from the security information ripped from the Cybertronian Database, they had been given fair warning that hacking attempts on that chamber would be met by a lethal automatic response- the back wall of the hall in which the chamber's door rested, closing in.

Stingbyte actually attacked that security measure first, and successfully disabled it. But when he started working his way through the chamber's door, he made it about half way through the necessary programming when something re-awoke the security measure. It was a feat the Predacon leader didn't quite understand the mechanics of, but was extremely displeased for.

"Will stop th-th…the walls," he stuttered, "w-working on it now."

"Never mind the walls! Open the door!" Megatron shouted.

"Not enough time," Scorponok responded desperately, "way too much work- oougfh!"

Anaphorase, unwilling to die in that hallway, shoved the hacker out of the way and took command of the hacking tools himself. His hands seemed to be a blur as he re-arranged wires in the pad Stingbyte had connected to the internals of the wall just to the right of the door. A few moments later, a beeping sound emanated from the pad, and Anaphorase, apparently satisfied, began typing furiously into the pad itself.

Not ten nano-clicks later, just as Megatron's frame was only an inch from the back wall, the door to the chamber slid open, and everyone ran desperately inside. Anaphorase entered last, as he was taking the pad away from the outer side- they'd have to get the wall to move back again if they ever wanted to leave.

Inside, the Golden Disk was in plain view- suspended fifty feet into the air, and 25 feet away from the balcony which went around the room.

"Retrieve the Disk," Megatron commanded Stingbyte once more. "And try not to get us killed this time."  
But this time, things went without a hitch. The code breaker worked the control panel in the room until it displayed three simple words:

Retrieve?  
Yes  
No

The code breaker stepped aside and naturally allowed his leader to have the honors. Megatron came forward and surveyed the three words, almost becoming insulted that "no" was even an option. He held his hand in mid-air…

"Yeeeeesssss!"

…and retrieved.

Outside, across the bridge and beyond the gates, the metal road bore scorch marks and scattered collections of empty cartridges, shrapnel, brick fragments and mech fluid. But the Maximals weren't anywhere in sight.

Up on the second level of the building right across from the gatehouse, the barrel of Arctosteel's sniper rifle was still leaning out, resting on its side.

And in the distance, the sirens of incoming police officers rang through the streets, coming into the audio receptors of the Predacon thieves who now stood surveying the scene.

"If there's a chance the Maximals have survived," Screech spoke up, "shouldn't we find and destroy them?"

"The government shall soon know our identities even without their report. They can be of no further threat to us," Megatron replied.

"And what of Arctosteel?" Dynamo inquired. Megatron looked back up to the sniper rifle.

"Whatever predicament he might be in, we don't have the time to assist him. He is a casualty of this operation."

Megatron turned ponderously to the east, listening to the sound of the inbound officers.

"The most difficult component of our plan has been accomplished. Predacons, advance."

Everyone transformed into their vehicle mode and headed west, eventually escaping the Dome's street.


	6. The Data

Rhinox moved a small x-ray device over the data disk, which up to this point had still not been touched by anyone.

"What happened here, Steelclaw?" Optimus asked while Rhinox got to work.

"Megatron and Blackarachnia got in the halls somehow, so Swiftfang and I went to confront them. But they split up, and Megatron came for me. I thought, of course, that he was looking for a fight, so I shot him, but he didn't retaliate. He just got up, said he wanted to talk and then he threw this to me. He told me it held information on who I was before the Beast Wars."

Steelclaw almost felt dirty for admitting that Megatron might even have once known who he was- like he was at fault for something he couldn't remember. But it was far more overwhelmingly relieving to have everybody in the hallway privy to what the tyrant had claimed. Steelclaw knew he was hiding nothing, and now there more minds to consider the perplexing claim.

Optimus, in beast mode, held a hand to his chin as he thought through this explanation. Then he turned to Rhinox, who had finished working with the x-ray scanner and had now moved on to using a bio-analyzer.

"What can you tell about the disk?" Primal asked.

"Hmm… it appears to be of normal construction, and this test is turning up negative for any biological threats. Then again, I can't tell you what programming is written inside. For all we know, it could contain a threat to this ship's systems. I wouldn't put it into a computer any time soon."

"Right," Optimus replied. "It'd probably be best for us to just destroy it and be done with it." Then he turned to the bear-'bot. "I'm sorry Steelclaw, but it's not worth the risk, and at any rate, we can't take Megatron at his word."

Steelclaw got a look on his face that expressed he wasn't quite in agreement.

"I know Megatron isn't trustworthy, but… well, what did you mean, Rhinox, when you said you wouldn't put this disk into a computer 'any time soon?'"

"All of our computers are hooked up to the _Axalon's_ core system right now," Rhinox explained. "It would take a little bit of effort, but we could isolate one interface so it wasn't connected to anything else. That way, if there is anything malicious on this disk, only that interface would be harmed… theoretically."

"Theoretically?" Primal asked.

"Writing a code which infects a host computer and then searches for other systems to wreck- even if they aren't plugged into that host- isn't beyond possibility."

"I'd be willing to move something a good distance away from the Axalon," Steelclaw proposed. "Or… can't you shut off a computer's remote capabilities?"

"The code could be designed to turn them back on," Rhinox asserted un-movingly.

"What about physically tearing those pieces out of a computer?" Steelclaw inquired.

"They're too small, delicate, and integrated into the other bits of hardware to try a surgery like that in any amount of time that would be worth diverting our attention to."

"Then what about my suggestion of moving the computer beyond that remote technology's range?"

"It isn't just computer damage we should be wary of, Steelclaw," Optimus inserted himself back into the conversation.

"The Predacons could write something that would be damaging for a Cybertronian- a sort of systematic attack on the viewer," Rhinox explained.

There was a long silence as the sniper came to terms with the reasoning behind their arguments.

His expression seemed to be dropping- he was ready to let it all go- when something stirred within him and he looked back up.

"I'm willing to face that attack," he stated.

For a moment, Optimus considered telling him that, as an order, the matter was closed, and the disk was to be destroyed. He had no intention of letting someone under his command hurt himself.

But then his resolve weakened, not because of Steelclaw's willingness to face the risk in front of him, but because of the desire which drove that willingness.

"This means that much to you?" he asked.

Steelclaw merely nodded in response.

* * *

"Why should we even care what's on that t'ing?" Rattrap asked the group of Maximals around him, all of whom were looking curiously through one of the _Axalon's_ port-side windows. On the stretch of land to that side, a little ways from the ship, Steelclaw and Rhinox were setting up one single computer.

"I agree with the vermin," Dinobot commented. "Even if there is nothing malignant on the disk, how are we to trust the information it contains?"

"Megatron will quite likely have come up with a way to provide evidence for its claims," Swiftfang offered.

"Of course he will," Rattrap replied. "But that doesn't prove any'ting."

"Not right now," Swiftfang conceded. "I am merely suggesting that the validity of the disk's information can not be accurately assessed until that information is seen. And that, I think, is a good reason for looking at it."

"Except it's Megatron who put it ta'gether," Rattrap asserted. "Ya t'ink he just wanted to walk up to our doors and hand us our own personal collection of truth?"

Swiftfang bobbed his head from side to side.

"Perhaps," he stated. "If he thought the truth could hurt us."

"I think they're ready," Cheetor interjected. The room went silent after that.

"It's ready," Rhinox announced. He moved aside as Steelclaw came in front of the computer, and handed the disk over to him. Steelclaw immediately put the disk into one of the computer's drives, and a folder for the disk showed up on screen.

"I'll be waiting right here," Rhinox mentioned as he took a position behind the computer. "If you begin to feel anything- and I mean anything- look away from the screen and come where I'm standing."

Steelclaw nodded once and then looked into the screen. Then he opened the folder.

But all that happened was the manifestation of a collection of files inside the folder. So Steelclaw did not the next logical thing- he started reading.

Cycles passed, and for a while, the event which had caused the Maximals in and outside of the ship a great deal of tension started to become boring- or at least boring for a few of them. But many noticed Steelclaw's expression get more and more stern. And then some began to wonder if they, just maybe, saw signs of fear.

"Rhinox," Steelclaw finally spoke, his voice a little weak and strangled. "As far as I can tell, this hasn't hurt me. Would it be possible…" At this he put a hand to his head, figuring out what to say next. "Uh, could you check if it did anything to the computer?"

"I could. Why?" he asked.

"I want to display it in the _Axalon_. I don't think I should hide this from anyone."

* * *

As Steelclaw walked into the bridge from the ship's back, he noticed everyone was spread around in the bridge in various places. Primal neglected the question everyone was pondering in favor of another.

"Are you feeling alright?"

" Yeah," Steelclaw replied somewhat despondently. He didn't appear to be as fine as he claimed, but Optimus was sure that Steelclaw's answer would only be re-affirmed if the matter was pressed.

"What'd you find out?" Cheetor spoke up.

Steelclaw turned from the console at the bridge's center where he had just laid the disk to face his teammates.

"If the contents of that device are to be believed," he announced, "I used to work under Megatron."

There was a very sudden and uneasy silence as everyone processed what had just been said.

"You mean… some time back when he was running rogue on Cybertron?" Blazemane finally asked.

"No, no," Steelclaw said as he turned to the console again and grabbed the device, "more recently. Apparently I helped him steal the Golden Disk."

Then he put the disk in the bridge's system, where it would display on the center hologram.

"What do you mean?" Cheetor spoke again.

The file showed up on the hologram, and everyone looked n that direction. Steelclaw began opening its contents, pulling up official identification documents and written reports of various events.

"The documents here claim that I was Arctosteel, an agent of the Maximal Government Investigation Division," he said, putting a red circle on a government i.d. "For reasons I obviously don't remember, and nothing on here really explains, I betrayed my organization to help Megatron infiltrate the Security Dome."

Optimus recognized the name of the building. It was where the Golden Disk had been held.

"Does any of this say how you helped him to do that?" he asked.

"Uh… there's nothing that outright says what my role was. But there is this."

With that, Steelclaw pulled up a video file.

In it, Megatron was waiting with Dinobot (both in their Cybertronian forms) in an alley that seemed rather common-place. A few moments later, a black vehicle pulled up and transformed. The 'bot was distinctly Cybertronian, but he did bear a resemblance with Steelclaw that no one on the bridge could deny.

_Yes, Megatron?" the 'bot asked without any other greeting. _

_ "The interference posed by the police and Maximal government is forcing us to speed things up."_

_ "How much?" the 'bot asked._

_ "We're moving tonight," Megatron stated matter-of-factly. The other seemed taken aback for a moment, but not so much that he disagreed with the idea. "I assume you can make it?" Megatron asked._

_ "Yeah, I can," he replied._

_ "How is the investigation faring?" Megatron asked._

_ "They've identified you," the 'bot replied, pointing to Dynamo, "but they don't know how to find you. And they don't know who any of the rest of us are."_

_ "Very well," Megatron replied. "Converge with us at the launch site at Thirty-one-hundred hours. Make sure your rifle is ready."_

_ "Yes, sir," the bot replied. He transformed back into vehicle mode and drove through the alley facing the same direction he had come in at._

Then the video stopped.

"If that is indeed me, and my weapons have stayed the same as what they were on Cybertron," Steelclaw began reasoning out loud, "this could very well have been what Megatron was referring to." He pulled the sniper rifle from his back, still compacted, and put it on the center console.

"The only rifle I personally own- a sniper rifle. Optimus, I've heard you talk about a… 'Golden Disk Theft Report'. Do you remember if it said anything about the specific damage done to the Dome."

"It did," Primal replied. "It was pretty detailed."

"Was there anything about long range damage? Things a sniper could do?"

"Yes, there was," Optimus admitted. "There were sentries posted along the Dome's top who had suffered what was undeniably sniper fire. There was even a broken artillery unit along the ring where they were posted which one of the sentries said had been taken out by the same shooter. The damage was later declared to have been done by an incendiary round."

"Then that would have been my purpose. I don't unlock doors, I don't handle traps, and I don't carry large artifacts- I shoot."

"But let's not jump to conclusions," Rhinox said. "All you're proving is that you could have fit into Megatron's team. It'd be hard to prove that you did fit."

Another silence ensued as people began thinking. It was Rattrap who finally spoke.

"Computer, analyze voice sample from video. Does it match Steelclaw's?"

The video began playing again on the hologram in a weird pattern of fast-forwarding, live-play, fast-forwarding. But it was inaudible to the group.

"Voice sample analyzed," the computer announced after the video had stopped again. "Voice confirmed as match for unit Steelclaw."

The shooter leaned on the console and exhaled slowly.

"But this doesn't prove anything either," Rhinox objected. "The Predacons have heard you before, and they could very easily have recorded a sample of your voice. Voice imitation technology was rampant on Cybertron."

"Then what about the visual- the 'bot in the video?" Cheetor asked.

"Quite possibly computer graphics imaging. That's also popular these days," Rhinox contended.

"Then how can we know?" Blazemane asked.

"I think there's another element of this to consider," Swiftfang spoke up. "Forget if Megatron's claim is valid or invalid. In fact- let's assume it is all true. What difference does it make?"

"What do you mean?" Steelclaw asked.

"As Maximals, it's our duty to seek the truth out to the best of our abilities," Optimus began. "But it's also important that we know what to do with the truth when we find it. If you were Arctosteel, the Maximal traitor who shot sentries at the Security Dome and in so doing, helped steal the Golden Disk, aren't you still Steelclaw, the Maximal sniper who has defended this very base from Predacon assault? I can see you don't like the possibility that what Megatron is saying might be true. And since that's the case, would you really stop fighting for good here even if what he's saying was proven?"

"That doesn't seem like the right move, no," Steelclaw admitted. "It's just… I'm going to keep wondering how I got to that point- what I was thinking. What does who I was make of... who I am?" He paused for a moment in thought. "I've got to know if this is real or not."

The bridge became silent once more as the Maximals pondered the different points brought up. Then Steelclaw's processor drifted to the one 'bot who hadn't spoken yet.

And then it dawned on him.

"Dinobot!" he exclaimed suddenly as he turned to the warrior. Everyone else stirred in their places, wondering what Steelclaw was thinking. "You- you were with Megatron when he stole the Golden Disk. Slag it, you were in that video! You can tell me if I was with your group or not."

Dinobot stared at Steelclaw for a few moments, saying nothing, but almost growling.

"Dinobot?" Steelclaw asked. "Was I with Megatron?" he re-iterated his question.

There was another small pause before Dinobot responded.

"No. I confess that in order to manage an infiltration of the Dome, we needed a sniper. But we lost him to government forces on site only after he'd performed his duties- a fact the Golden Disk Theft Report can confirm. He wasn't you and obviously could not have been you."

Steelclaw relaxed from his agitated stance as he took in relieved breaths.

"Well, there you have it," Cheetor said. "Another fine example of honesty from the head of Pred central."

Steelclaw walked to the console and ejected the data disk. Then he crushed it in his hand. And as he did so, the air of anxiety which had weighed heavily on the bridge seemed to disappear.

* * *

Megatron was sitting in his command chair when Scorponok approached him on a hover board.

"Report," he commanded simply.

"Uh… the cyber-bee has just returned to base."

"_Yes_," Megatron replied with annoyance- he had already assumed that was true, or Scorponok would not have come to him calmly. "And what did you discover?"

"The Maximals set up a computer outside their base, and then Steelclaw was looking at the disk's contents. Uh… after he was done, he took the disk inside with him."

Megatron chuckled to himself for a moment.

"His time in the stasis pod had no effect on his curiosity, I see. Excellent."

"So what do you plan to do now?" Scorponok asked.

"We wait a while and see what comes of the Maximals' new-found knowledge. They may re-assure their friend for a while, but I wager the truth will assert itself in due time. And when that happens, I think we'll be seeing more of our dear comrade around here."

With that, Megatron pulled out what appeared to be some sort of capsule from his sub-space and began examining it.

"Now, Scorponok," he said, "explain this new theory of yours to me one more time."

* * *

Night had finally fallen on the _Axalon_, and Optimus Primal was sitting in his quarters in beast mode, reading a book on a datapad as he was often known to do, when a knock echoed from his door.

"Enter," he responded.

The door slid open, and revealed Dinobot, in robot mode, on the other side of the threshold. Then he walked into the room and the door slid closed behind him.

"Optimus," he said, "I must speak with you."

"I actually wanted to talk to you too," Primal responded, setting the pad down on the stand next to him.

"Then I would be interested in hearing what you would have to say first," Dinobot replied. Optimus saw nothing wrong with this and began.

"I hope you won't mind- after the conversation in the bridge today, I took the liberty of reviewing the Golden Disk Theft Report."

"And what did you discover?" Dinobot asked.

"There was a sniper who had come from the Maximal Government. According to members of that organization, he was taken into custody, which fits what you said. But with your band launching off of Cybertron soon afterwards, I don't think you got the chance to find out what became of him after that."

"Not in our escape," Dinobot remarked, "but I have since learned. That is what I have come to talk to you about."

Optimus gave him an inquisitive look for a moment, before relaxing his expression. "Go on," he said.

"I thought that at least you should know," Dinobot responded.

"Is Steelclaw…"

Dinobot nodded.

"Affirmative."


	7. Departure and Pondering

_Author's note: Thank you JZ Belexes for editing this chapter!_

The first thing Quickrim registered as his optics came back online was the ceiling above him. A moment later, he heard the mechanical beeping of some nearby machine and muted voices beyond his room plaintively notifying various 'bots to report to this hallway or that office. Experience told him he was in a hospital.

He looked to his left and saw the beeping belonged to a bulky system which was monitoring his vital signs remotely. Quickrim was glad that at the very least he wasn't hooked up to anything, but the glass lenses on the machine pointing straight at him seemed to stare with intrusive effort.

"The doctors said you'd be able to get to a CR chamber soon," Torcher said to announce his presence. Quickrim looked down to the foot of the metal slab he was resting on and saw the speaker standing just inside the room with arms folded. "Guess you needed manual repairs first. You got pretty messed up."

That would explain the pain he was still feeling in his chest and shoulder, and even in his hand. But that was the least of his concerns.

"Were you able to contact your station?" Quickrim asked. "Were the thieves apprehended?"

"I was able to radio in," Torcher replied. "But I was too late. The police just missed 'em."

"Did they get away with the Disc?" said Quickrim.

"Yeah," Torcher replied simply. After a short silence, he spoke up again. "There wasn't anything more either of us could have done. You got put in stasis lock before they came out of the Dome. I got both of us to cover and watched for when they'd come out. When they finally did, I was gonna try to hold them back a little longer. But after I took a few steps, my systems quit on me too."

Quickrim took the information in, but soon had another question.

"What about Arctosteel? Where is he?"

Torcher thought a few moments for a way to respond that wouldn't sound terrible, but he could think of none.

"We lost him in the disruptor fluid."

"He's dead?" Quickrim asked redundantly, hoping for some catch, some loophole, some solace.

For the second time in a short period, Torcher's best response was "Yeah."

Quickrim sat up uneasily, and then shifted his legs off the side of the bed so his feet were touching the ground. It seemed he was prepared to leave the hospital that instant, and when Torcher realized why, he did have something new to say.

"Quickrim… Arctosteel was the one that knocked you out."

The agent turned his head to the right. "What?"

"Arctosteel was sniping for the Predacon crew. He fired the shot that finally put you in stasis lock."

Quickrim's processor raced with thoughts. He couldn't believe it- or rather, he could, but didn't. He would need to see proof. And if it were true, did this mean Arctosteel had just snapped that night for some reason, or, as was more likely, that he had been planning long beforehand to help the Predacons that night? And if that were also true, what had made him decide to do so? And how had Quickrim not noticed anything wrong?

But currently, there were no answers to any of his questions, and as he alternated between staring at the floor and the wall in front of him, his expression became blank.

The sound of Torcher's com-link activating brought him back to the situation at hand.

"Torcher here," the cop replied.

"This is Wirecat. What's Quickrim's condition?"

"He's awake. I'm with him right now." Torcher's com-link died without warning and Quickrim's began sounding.

"Sir?"

"Quickrim, I hate to call you in so quickly, but we need you and Torcher to come back to HQ and give your account of things. As it stands, you're our only two eye-witnesses right now."

"We'll leave immediately." Quickrim shut off the link.

"Are you sure?" his partner asked. "You aren't completely repaired yet."

"We possess our own CR chambers back at Headquarters," he countered, standing up with a slightly hunched-over look. "Right now, time is everything."

Torcher opened the door for Quickrim and stepped aside, allowing him to walk out first.

* * *

The news of the Golden Disk's theft spread across Cybertron as quickly as Wirecat had expected. Members of his agency who had new findings to report, a few news companies his public relations department hadn't been able to keep at bay and even representatives of the High Council were in a constant fight for his attention. As a result, he hadn't been able to leave his office since he'd arrived the previous night.

He felt he was reaching his wit's end when Trackstomp contacted him through the building's intercom system.

"Wirecat here," he responded after pushing a button on his desk.

"Hey there," came Trackstomp's voice. "Sir, I've uh… well, I've got two pieces of news to tell you. Pretty good news, I think."

And now Trackstomp was talking a mile an hour.

"What is it, Trackstomp? Say what you need to already!"

"Uh… well, sir," the agent continued, seemingly un-phased, "we found a lead inside the warehouse which should bring us to the thieves' chemical supplier."

"I was under the impression we weren't going to re-open the warehouse for a few megacycles still…" Wirecat responded.

"Well, you see, sir, that's the second piece of news. Someone's waiting outside your door."

"Who?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, sir. Selffaw needs me for something. I'll get back to you."

"Trackstomp!"

The other end of the intercom went dead. Sighing in frustration, Wirecat unlocked the door from his desk, and a moment later it slid open.

In walked Sweetstreep and the other three Maximals who had been with him.

Wirecat stood up from his chair and slowly reached over to turn the intercom off.

"I'd thought for certain you four were destroyed," he finally said.

"The gas did turn out to be different from what I'd first told you," Streetsweep responded. "I checked the four of us when we came back online to make sure we weren't still in danger somehow and also to make sure there was nothing contagious on us. Everything is fine. 'Tis as if we were never put in stasis lock."

Wirecat didn't know what to make of this new information. This group of Predacons had displayed their willingness to kill, even with intentional cruelty. It didn't make sense for them to soften their blow.

There was only one thing Wirecat was sure of: he was glad things had turned out as they had.

"Well, Maximals, you're free to rest for now, but please stay in the med bay here where we can monitor your condition. I have the utmost respect for your scientific opinion, Streetsweep, but for now I'd rather be safe than sorry. I'd hate to hear that any of you were suddenly seized with a problem where no one could be of medical service."

Streetsweep nodded his understanding and started heading out the door. Once all four had left, the agency leader got back on his intercom.

"Trackstomp, are you there?"

"Sir?" a response came. Wirecat shook his head slowly and scoffed. Selffaw hadn't needed him for anything.

"Two things. Did we get an analysis of the weaponized gas used at the Dome yet? I'd like to look at the report. And secondly, tell me about the lead you mentioned. The sooner we find the chemical supplier, the better."

* * *

In a hangar in Cybertron's northern docking port, a small-but-formidable-looking Predacon handed a key card to someone much larger than himself.

"Well, it was nice doing business with you," the smaller 'bot said. "The ship is all yours."

"Ah, it is appreciated," Megatron responded to Oilslick, who promptly turned around and walked for the docking bay's gate. He never quite made it...

Aphonorase walked up to Megatron, who was putting his main weapon, still smoking, back into its resting position.

"Report," Megatron commanded his subordinate.

"Given the samples of mech fluid collected from the battlefield in coordination with my files-"

"Your files?" Megatron interrupted. "Certainly you realize that a description as vague as that makes me question the trustworthiness of your source."

"My source is quite credible."

"I do not doubt that. But then, I did not say 'credibility', did I?"

Megatron was glad when Aphonorase had come and offered his services. He was a very useful Predacon to have around, and he seemed very well connected. Sometimes it seemed, however, that he was too well connected.

"I merely hacked the Maximal identification database to match the samples. The process is insultingly simple."

"Of course," Megatron stated, leaving the issue of trust to another time.

"According to medical records, both of the officers we met last night checked into a hospital about 45 cycles away."

"Indeed. Well, we shall not pursue them this time. We do not have the time to silence them, and we do not want to give authorities any extra opportunities to confront us. Besides, any help those two can offer will not be enough to give away our location."

"Another thing we may need to consider- communications between police forces and government workers, which I have, again, accessed, indicate that most of the guards in the Dome survived. Apparently, the gas administered only put them out for a few megacycles."

"How is that possible?" Megatron questioned loudly. "I ordered you to prepare a lethal toxin."

"And I put one together," Aphonorase defended. "I may not have been the last one to touch it."

Megatron considered the scientist's claim and quickly decided he was being honest. Someone else in the group, then, had defied his intentions.

On the other end of the Darksyde, Dynamo listened to the conversation and slowly allowed a smile to cross his face.

As he came to the conclusion that would certainly result from any conversation with Dynamo, and to which he would ultimately, and begrudgingly, agree, Megatron decided to let the matter go. "It is of no consequence. They will only provide as much assistance as the two officers. Soon, very soon, we will be gone from Cybertron, yes."

* * *

The morning cast a less foreboding atmosphere on the Dome as grey light reflected from a sky that looked ready to rain. But the sun was attempting to permeate the cloud cover above, creating a glare of focused light which shone down upon the holes in the ground that were now plain to see.

Government workers and forensic analysts covered the scene of the crime, scouring for evidence of the course of the previous night's attack, although there was no great mystery surrounding the event. They had found enough mech fluid to identify each of the six thieves, and what the band had made off with was obvious.

Two analysts were studying a scorch mark burned into the road by a grenade's detonation when a noise came from eastward down the road- that of gears grinding against worn out parts, and the slow, labored clanking of a metal body against hard stone. Then they saw a 'bot raising himself over the ridge of the road, trying to get through the fence. He was extremely damaged, burned by some abrasive or his own systems short circuiting.

A few workers ran in his direction, and making short work of the fence along the edge, pulled the 'bot to complete safety. A short examination determined an undeniable truth:

Arctosteel was alive.

* * *

Ioncutter decided, as he spat some fluid from his newly damaged lip, that he was not having a good week.

He, like most Predacons, was brought up with an acute awareness of his race's oppression at the hands of the Maximals. Reminders of the need for an uprising constantly presented themselves. In this regard, he saw much of his life through the eyes of a soldier preparing for a war.

But he quickly learned he was no warrior. Some Predacons seemed built to fight- he seemed built to be a punching bag. So he turned his interests to science, not out of some great interest in the field or some unique sense of wonder at the universe, but out of mere necessity. If he couldn't be on the front lines firing, he reasoned, he should at least be putting the right weapons into his comrades' servos. And anyways, that would keep those comrades from thinking he was sympathetic with Cybertron's other faction.

He never quite understood why 'bots came and looked over his shoulder during his time in various science academies. He asked few questions, understood most topics that were thrown at him very quickly and whenever he had to make a small invention for this assignment or that one, his finished products were always respectably effective. So there was no need for anyone to worry about him making some huge error.

On the other hand, he hardly fancied himself smart enough for those observers to be _waiting_ for him to make a mistake so they could berate him for something. He gave them enough opportunities for that, and they never really jumped on his case. The Predacons at the academy, in fact, conducted themselves in such a mannerly fashion that Ioncutter regarded his education as a prime example of his race's capability- a capability that the Maximals ignored- that the Maximals suppressed.

One day during the course of his education, as he was heading home, he heard the sound of a scuffle behind him. He cautiously retraced his steps and peeked down into the ally from which the noises emanated. Two Predacons, for whatever reason, had gotten into a disagreement, and with no peaceful solution in sight they'd come to blows. As Ioncutter was deciding whether or not to intercede, the one nearest him decided he was losing and pulled out a weapon. He quickly fired an electrically-charged metal ball straight into the other's chest.

With this distraction, he ran straight out of the alley and right past Ioncutter. The scientist stayed and watched the Predacon who'd been shot, gauging the effectiveness of his own invention, which, unbeknownst to him until that moment, had been ripped off by some weapons dealer.

Ioncutter had envisioned the gun as a way to recharge electric barriers from a distance, but he had to admit that the way it had been re-purposed was effective. It took the Predacon who'd been shot half a cycle to stand back up.

The scientist was understandably angry, and he had to confront the fact that while he had been educating himself to further the Predacon cause, his efforts had thus far been taken advantage of to settle street disputes. But he had no doubt in his capabilities from that point on.

As he progressed further in his studies and came closer to professional weapons development, he had to face another fact of life- Maximal paranoia. A Predacon under the Cybertronian government couldn't simply make a gun. With peace having been maintained on the planet for three-hundred years, a good excuse was needed for a 'bot to carry a weapon that wasn't already part of their superstructure. Ioncutter would have been angry with the Maximals for this precaution as well, had he not entered his field to achieve exactly what they feared. He was many things, but he was no hypocrite.

Still, he decided to be flexible, so he interacted with Maximal officials as he needed to, and bore a cheerful demeanor in every such encounter.

Stellar cycles came and went before he came to an unwanted conclusion- most of the Maximals he talked with were as nice to him as he was to them. Furthermore, he had earned a trustworthy reputation among their ranks. It seemed that some even considered him a friend.

In his time with these Maximals, he also met many who were fascinated with sciences which did not always imply use in warfare. Soon he found himself investing time in the study of medical practices and chemistry, and in these realms, he found himself to be as apt as he was in the making of arms.

As a natural result of his study in medicine, he quickly got around to working with Cybertronians- both Maximal and Predacon- who needed his help being repaired. With this exposure to sufferings of various degrees and to the mortality which those ailments suggested and occasionally lead to, he slowly came around to another conclusion: he had no appreciation for death.

He held onto his desire to help the Predacons come to their rightful position, but his weapons became far less lethal. He reasoned he would help win a war with as little oil-shed as possible. But the new nature of his inventions only helped him gain more approval among Maximal licensers while his ties with the Predacons never lost their strength. He was becoming an integral part of both sides.

And one day, all on his own, he decided he was done with idealizing civil war. The Predacons didn't want their resistance to be as peaceable as possible, and many of them, he found, didn't even truly want what was rightfully theirs. Beneath all the lofty calls for justice and equality, there was a desire for vengeance and domination.

It was then that he did the unthinkable. He began selling his weapons to Maximals. He had to do so discretely, and he continued to provide for Predacons customers, but he was no longer partial to either faction.

Some of his own race, however, took notice, and one of the many Predacon gangs on Cybertron decided he needed to be punished. Fortunately, Ioncutter reported the death threats he had been sent in time for the Maximal government to intervene and save him.

Not fours days later, however, he was in trouble with another group for a different matter entirely.

"Haze, have you found them yet?" the one who'd just knocked Ioncutter to the ground asked one of his cohorts. Compressor was his name.

"Nah. This guy's computer has security like I've never seen."

In better circumstances, Ioncutter would have taken the statement as a compliment.

"Hmm… Plan B, then," Compressor announced before deploying a cruel-looking blade from his right arm. He grabbed the Predacon by the throat and slammed him against the back wall of his office. "Pick a limb, any limb," he said menacingly.

Ioncutter stalled, unable to respond. He would have folded under the threat, were he not already assured that this band would kill him whether he cooperated or not. The longer he waited, the longer he could live. Compressor took note of his silence and continued.

"Get us onto your computer before things turn ugly."

With no other option, Ioncutter made his last desperate move. A panel on his chest opened at lighting speed and he fired 6 short blades straight into Compressor's shoulder. The larger robot gasped in shock and dropped his victim, who immediately started running for the door. But Compressor was strongly built, and he recovered in time to slice Ioncutter in the back, bringing him to the ground.

A third member of the group spoke up. "Y'know, if he's dead, he ain't exactly going to be able to testify to anything. Why don't we just offline 'im and set up one a' those 'accidental' explosions for this building?"

Compressor didn't take his gaze off the Predacon scientist as he turned him over and stepped on his chest.

"He's got a point," he affirmed. "This is your last chance, you little snitch!"

Ioncutter's mind raced furiously. _Why hadn't they just done that in the first place?_

Suddenly, another voice cut through the tense silence.

"Sir, I'm going to have to request you retract your blade and stand against the wall."

Compressor looked casually over to the 'bot who had just addressed him, and noticed the Maximal insignia clearly stamped on his shoulder.

"This slagger is a Predacon criminal," he replied. "And I'm dealing with a private matter."

The newcomer produced a virtual badge and displayed it for everyone inside the building.

"Wirecat, Maximal Government Investigation Division," he announced himself. "Ioncutter is now under our custody."

Compressor realized that the situation had completely reversed itself. Now it was his turn for a desperation tactic.

Wirecat saw the sword swinging down towards his head in time to deftly sidestep it. Grabbing Compressor's arm with one hand and pressing the other on his back, Wirecat slammed him straight into the ground with enough force to dent the metallic floor. Ioncutter noticed a small flash of light emanate from the pushing hand, and deduced that the agent had a concussive weapon system installed in his arm.

Compressor's allies started moving towards Wirecat, but the appearance of four more agents discouraged any further actions.

"We don't take vigilantism lightly," Wirecat remarked as he looked at Compressor's own Maximal insignia, "but I'm getting the impression you're up to even worse."

Compressor only groaned in response.

"Clear the room," Wirecat ordered as he stepped away from the rogue. The other attackers went with the government agents without a word as one of the agents carried Compressor.

Wirecat offered a hand to Ioncutter, which the Predacon looked at for a few moments before accepting it. Wirecat hauled him to his feet and easily noticed him grimace on the way up. A moment later, he saw the gash on the scientist's back.

Clearing a space hastily on Ioncutter's desk, he motioned for him to sit down. The Predacon complied gingerly.

"Quartz," he called past the door into the next hallway. "This 'bot needs medical attention."

As one of the agents rushed back into the room, Ioncutter looked questioningly at Wirecat, who was now standing in front of him with arms crossed.

"What exactly can I do for you?" the Predacon asked.

Wirecat cut straight to the chase: "How long have you been involved with Megatron?"

Ioncutter's face was the picture of dumbfounded innocence. "I'm sorry," he replied politely. "Who?"

As Wirecat gauged his reaction and prepared his next response, the other agents filed back into the room and began a thorough search of it. Their work would have been more noticeably intrusive were it not for Compressor's group, which had just come through and turned over a number of desks, cabinets and computers.

"Four days ago a Maximal agent, designation Arctosteel, helped you ward off a Predacon group making threats on your life," Wirecat stated matter-of-factly. "We have reason to believe you distributed a large amount of the chemical compound Aetheromadium to him. This compound was recently used as part of a significant criminal act. So answer me honestly. How much were you told by this agent of the weapon's intended use?"

Something sparked in Ioncutter's processor, and it showed in his expression for one moment before he winced. Quartz was beginning to work on repairing his back.

"No, see, you've got it all wrong. I-"

"Sir," a voice coming from another member of Wirecat's team interrupted him. Ioncutter looked to his left and saw the speaker walking out of his lab, which was just the next room over. "It was definitely here."

Wirecat stared back at Ioncutter sternly. "Have I?"

"He brought the stuff to me," Ioncutter defended. Wirecat looked back to the other agent, who shook his head calmly.

"What do you know of the chemical's intended use?" Wirecat asked again.

"Wait one cycle, what makes you think I'm lying?" Ioncutter asked the Maximal to the left a bit angrily, ignoring Wirecat's inquiry. He received no reply.

"He doesn't answer your questions, and you don't ask them," Wirecat said shortly.

"But I think I already know why he thinks I'm lying," Ioncutter answered rapidly, hoping he'd be allowed the time to explain himself. "It's what I'm trying to tell you. The guy you guys sent me a few days back brought the Aeth himself after he was done helping me, 'cause I told him after he helped me I'd love to help him with something, y'know? And he said for an upcoming job he had to do that he needed the weapon to be converted into something non-lethal while still keeping most of its properties, so that way it would look like the same weapon to most 'bots. Guess he was doing something undercover, and he didn't want the other guys to know he was messing with the chemical, 'cause that would blow his cover, right? At least, that's what he told me. He was Maximal government- I believed him. Anyways, that's why my lab's full of the compound's different elements. I was taking it apart, not putting it together.

"And that's why you think I'm lying, isn't it?" he continued vindictively, turning to the other Maximal. "It looks like I was making it, because I've got a bunch of different elements from it all over my lab- on viles, droppers, microscopes, computer interfaces, the works! Am I right?"

"You're a renowned weapons dealer," Wirecat replied, making the Predacon look back at him. "It didn't occur to you that you should ask Arctosteel why he wanted the weapon?"

"Why he wanted me to change it?" Ioncutter corrected, beginning to feel his questioner wanted to trap him. "Course I did. He said he couldn't tell me."

"Do you have any way of proving your claims?"

Ioncutter who had by this point been growing indignant, suddenly wilted. This was his best chance of keeping his name clear, and now he found he had nothing to say.

"We'll be investigating your lab for the next few megacycles," Wirecat informed him after some moments' silence. "In the mean time, I suspect you'll need to make a report at our Headquarters about whatever it is that brought that group of Maximals you were just talking to down on your head. If we find evidence here of your innocence in the Aetheromadium case, you can come back to your lab."

"That's it!" Ioncutter erupted. Wirecat stared back at him, perplexed.

"Whoever was harmed in this… well, you only called it a criminal act- whatever it was, would have been killed if they'd been hit by real Aeth," Ioncutter explained. "But I changed it, so they should still be functioning. And they are, aren't they? But you've been so secretive about the incident, I couldn't possibly have known what the incident was, let alone if the victims in it were killed or only put in stasis lock. But I know what happened, because I know the effects of the weapon now, because I changed it to what it is."

For a moment, Wirecat continued staring in silence.

"Quartz," he finally spoke up. "How're things coming?"

"Needs some time in a CR chamber, this one does. But he should be fine for now," the medic replied as he stepped away from the Predacon.

"We'll still require further investigation to prove your story," Wirecat said. Then his expression lightened just slightly. "But perhaps I judged you too harshly," he admitted. "That being noted, whether you're innocent or guilty, things will go better for you if you cooperate and report whatever you know about Arctosteel and the group he was working with.

"Tac' team one," he spoke into his com-link, "we're moving out."

* * *

He had flashes of memories. Coming back online in a hospital to medics working on him… being carted down unknown hallways… seeing shapes beyond a tinted window. At one point, he finally maintained consciousness long enough to try holding a conversation with a medic. But most of his responses were incoherent. He hazily noticed the other 'bot get up and walk away.

The moment Arctosteel regained his lucidity, he took stock of where he should have been. He was defeated and left behind at the Security Dome and then helped back up to the street by what would have to have been forensic analysts. Given standard procedure, he figured he would be in a maximum security prison.

But the room around him suggested he was in a typical hospital. Above him, on the ceiling, he could see a virtual display of some of his vital stats. The door to the room had only a normal lock- one which could be undone from the inside without a key. To his right, a mirror was situated on the wall.

Arctosteel sat up slowly and looked into it, and suddenly things made a little more sense. His face was virtually unrecognizable beneath a collection of scratches and scorch marks.

The door opened, and he whipped his head around to see who was coming. It was just a hospital worker- certainly someone he'd never seen before. He caught a look of sympathy on her face as she started to talk to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was hoping I could catch you when you woke up, and prepare you…" she trailed off.

Having worked in the intelligence field for many stellar cycles, Arctosteel's first thought was that he was being played. So he decided to test the waters.

"It's okay," he quickly cut her off, his voice full of understanding. "I've been through enough before in my line of work to handle a little facial disfigurement."

By coming close to admitting who he was, he hoped to gauge by her response whether she already knew.

"You'll…" she began tentatively, "…actually have to help me there. Whatever time you were stuck in the disruptor fluid was enough to ruin your signature systems. Now that you're online again, I was hoping you could tell me who you are."

Arctosteel kept his feelings in check. This medic would not have been told any of the names of those who were in the Security Dome, so for the moment, any identity he threw out would suffice. But eventually someone else would prove it false, implicating him as a liar and probably rousing the curiosity of those in the government who were now certainly looking for him.

Of course, if he did not answer at all, his signature probably would re-assert itself at some point. Either way, he was now on a time table to escape from the hospital…

"My name is Slugger," he answered her. "I've been a guard for the Security Dome for the past eight stellar cycles."

…starting now.

The fact she had asked him who he was, then, indicated strongly that she truly did not know, or she'd have been intentionally putting herself in harm's way.

"So," he said after a short pause, "what's your name?"

"Solarscape," she replied as she stared up at the ceiling to look at his stats. "Circuitry specialist, at your service."

"So many S's," Arctosteel observed.

Solarscape laughed good-naturedly as she looked back down to him. The tension in the room seemed to lessen suddenly.

"So let me give you a run down of the next few megacycles," she said, getting back to business. "Your own repairing systems should be able to handle the marks on your faceplate, so you'll be looking like your old self before you know it…"

Arctosteel felt somewhat bad for her. She didn't realize what she was doing.

"But your mechanical circuitry is going to take some time and extra attention. You'll probably feel fine soon, but I'm warning you, don't strain yourself too hard."

Arctosteel moved his hand just to test out what she was saying. He _did _feel fine. He noticed her watching him with a look of sympathy once again etched into her features.

"And you'll probably be glad to know, they stopped the thieves last night," she said consolingly. Arctosteel found himself once more keeping his feelings at bay.

"They did?" he answered in a tone that was part question and part statement, meant to sound pleased.

"Mm hmm. They aren't releasing many details yet, but the news is saying the Predacons were after the Golden Disk. Almost got away with it too, but nobody's saying how. I'm… actually really interested. I hope they can tell us how everything went down soon."

"Beats me," Arctosteel replied. "I got put offline pretty quickly."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Solarscape quickly replied. "I didn't mean to-"

Arctosteel chuckled for a moment.

"No, you're fine. You really are."

"Thanks. But I'll try not to bring the details up too much." With that, Solarscape turned to face the wall where a computer interface was set up. She began typing into it.

"What I would like to know," she said after a while, "is what they would even want the Golden Disk for. I know it's got some stuff about the Great War written on it, but that's just like… history, right?"

"Basically," Arctosteel replied. "But it's history that's been classified for a reason. There's a lot a 'bot could do with specific facts from the Great War."

Solarscape seemed to think about what he was saying for a few moments before responding again.

"Like what?" she asked. "Find some of the old Decepticons? Or… do you think maybe the Disk would say where Earth is?"

Arctosteel was about to answer her when a small alarm went off in his processor. When one wanted to get information out of someone else, he'd been taught, a direct approach wasn't always the best strategy. Convincing the target that there was no longer any reason for them to hide what they knew and then giving them the impression that the important details were already beyond their control to hide could often get them talking faster than threats or even torture.

It was an effective tactic, but more so against those who weren't already familiar with it. Arctosteel suddenly regained the suspicion that he was being tricked.

"I have no idea," he replied with a shrug. "Too many possibilities to guess at."

"Yeah. Maybe they'll admit what they were thinking later on," she answered before she finished her typing and started walking for the door. "I'll be back in a few cycles. Can I get you anything?" she asked amiably.

"Not that I can think of," said Arctosteel. "But is it okay if I get up and walk around the halls a bit?"

Solarscape paused for a moment. "Yeah," she finally said, "I think you should be good."

"Thanks." After she walked out and closed the door, he got up from his resting slab and started walking for the door himself. He was surprised to find that the rest of his body felt and moved just as well as the hand he had tested earlier.

Opening the door, he walked out of the room and saw Solarscape on his left side walking towards the end of the hall where a security guard stood. Also to the left was a small vendor's booth. Walking over until he was standing in front of it, he saw that it sold oils, energon, and, for the more uniquely constructed, even some gourmet metal selections.

"What can I get you?" the vendor asked him. Arctosteel stole a quick glance to his right and saw there was a guard posted at that side of the hall as well. Then he looked back to the vendor.

"I don't have any currency disk on me and I… can't even prove who I really am to start putting things on credit, but if you want to take my word for it, my name is Slugger, and I'll pay you as soon as I can…" By now he was looking back to Solarscape, who was talking to the security guard.

"I get it," the vendor said understandingly. "You can go ahead."

"Well, then I'd like just a small cylinder of oil," he said, facing the other 'bot again.

"No problem," the vendor replied before turning around to get the Maximal's order.

After waiting a while, Arctosteel started a new conversation.

"Pretty rough, that whole 'Golden Disk' fiasco, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh yeah," the vendor replied without turning around. From his nonchalant response, Arctosteel judged the other Maximal was either unaware his customer had been put in the hospital as a result of the mentioned "fiasco", or that his mind was somewhere else at that moment.

"Of course, I'm sure they'll bring 'em to justice eventually."

"Once they catch 'im," the vendor replied.

"Him?" Arctosteel asked.

"One of the thieves got left behind. Government thinks they can find him."

"I thought they caught the rest of them already," Arctosteel stated.

"Right, but one got left behind," the vendor answered without missing a beat. Arctosteel, however, wasn't convinced. The vendor has essentially contradicted himself. Turning around, he handed Arctosteel his oil. The agent thanked him and started walking down the hall towards Solarscape and the guard.

As he approached, he caught the end of their conversation. "...enough sense. So where are you off to after this? Oh, hey, Slugger! Is everything alright?"

"Oh, definitely," Arctosteel answered the medic. He noticed the guard looking at him with practiced neutrality. He wouldn't be taken easily.

Arctosteel looked down at his oil before taking a sip of it. "I was wondering, when am I going to be able to go?"

"Well, you probably want to wait until your face plate gets repaired, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm not trying to leave right now. But I feel pretty good," he said, rotating his wrist for show, "and I think-" He suddenly stopped when he dropped his oil cylinder on the ground, spilling its contents.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, bending down to reach for the empty cylinder. Solarscape stopped him with a restraining hand and went for the cylinder herself.

"No, no, it's okay, I've got it."

As soon as she stooped down, Arctosteel reached for the guard's holstered handgun. Before he could even protest, Arctosteel's fist came crashing into the guard's jaw. He stumbled backwards and then crashed onto the ground when he slipped on the oil. Arctosteel kept him down with two shots to his chest.

He immediately grabbed Solarscape around the neck and pointed the gun towards her head. Then he noticed the guard at the other end of the hall, who was about to open fire on him, hesitate.

"Drop your gun!" Arctosteel barked. The guard stared at him, unmoving. "Do it now!" Arctosteel shouted again. Suddenly, Solarscape's elbow rammed into his chest. She quickly maneuvered out of his grasp, turned around and smashed underneath his chin with the heels of both of her hands. Arctosteel maintained his balance but stumbled against the back wall. Solarscape ran away from him in the other direction.

Not a moment later, the other guard's lasers started raining in. Arctosteel quickly reached down to the stasis locked 'bot next to him and took his clearance card. The agent took a shot to the shoulder before returning fire and scoring three hits dead center. Then he tore off down the other hall.

Soon he saw a pair of sliding doors to his right. He hurriedly swiped the card on the doors' scanner. As soon as they unlocked and began sliding open, he slipped between them and gratefully noticed they were an entryway to a staircase. He quickly ran down to the next landing unopposed.

Turning around to begin the descent to the next actual level, Arctosteel noticed another sentry at the double doors to the rooms on that floor. This sentry, as luck would have it, was armed with an automatic pulse weapon. He had heard the shots upstairs and was anticipating trouble. He let off a volley as soon as Arctosteel appeared.

Arctosteel retreated backwards to the half of the landing connected to the ascending stairs as energy ricocheted off of the walls. As soon as the firing stopped, he rolled out, and, coming to a stop on one knee, shot a laser right between the sentry's optics. The unfortunate 'bot smashed into the doors behind him before he fell forward on the ground.

Arctosteel made a quick assessment of his situation as he went down the rest of the stairs to the downed guard. Given that the sentry had been armed with an automatic weapon, he likely was not a member of hospital staff. Arctosteel clearly wasn't in maximum security, but he must have been put in the hospital by the government, maybe to coax information out of him through the method he had considered earlier. It was equally possible, then, that Megatron and the rest had not been apprehended at all as Solarscape and the vendor had claimed.

Arctosteel stopped briefly to acquire the other 'bot's gun before he turned to face the next flight of stairs.

The sentry at the doors below had heard the commotion and was already on his way up. He rounded the landing below in time to see Arctosteel and take aim, but he was mowed down before he had the chance to pull his trigger.

Of course, many had heard these shots by now and were filling the stair case from above and below. Arctosteel ran down to the next landing and waited for 'bots to turn the next bend. This strategy was effective, as about four guards crossed into his firing range at different times, all of whom were sniped into stasis lock.

But then the ones coming from above all rounded the corner and started running down, peppering him with suppressing fire. He shouted in pain as he scrambled to his feet and ran to the next floor, and then turned around again to begin the descent to yet the next level. There, however, five different sentries were waiting for him, having learned a lesson from the four who had rounded the corner one at a time. He quickly jerked back as their shots sprayed concrete and sparks into the air. Then he looked up and saw the crew from above turn to face him yet again. And beyond the glass in the doors behind him, he saw even more coming.

He couldn't run up, he couldn't run down, and he couldn't run into the hallways. The storm of lasers, plasma and quasar that was now coming at him from seemingly innumerable directions helped convince him of his last option.

Moving quickly, he hoisted himself above the hole in the concrete which divided the staircase for each level into two halves. He saw the concrete of the first floor- four levels below him in fact- in this hole. And then he let go.

Holding his arms up to keep his body as thin as possible, he almost made it the whole way down, but got caught on part of the second-to-last level's concrete division. His body arced violently over the construct and his own momentum slammed his face into the outside of it. Mech fluid sprayed from the impact, but he persisted, and allowed his body to slide through to the first floor.

None of the sentries wished to duplicate this procedure, so while they were now rushing on the fourth floor, Arctosteel was on the first. Still, the sound of their shuffling motivated him to get up in a hurry. His gears were grinding in disdain as he ran to the doors which led into the rooms of the first level. He swiped his card and listened as it made an electronic buzzing noise. The doors weren't going to unlock for him.

"Come on…" he panicked out loud as heard the noise of the guards rushing down to him getting closer. Aiming his automatic weapon above the door, he fired a continuous salvo, making a mess of the internal mechanics controlling the door until he heard the magnetic seal that held its two halves together deactivate. Prying his fingers between the two parts of the door, he pulled them apart and ran into the hallway.

Looking around quickly, he saw a back entrance where truckers loaded supplies and took away garbage. He rushed out of it and into the surrounding streets.

* * *

It was time.

Megatron strode over to his commanding chair and took a pensive glance around at all the lights on the monitors and gauges across the room, blinkingly illuminating the otherwise darkened bridge of his massive ship, the _Darksyde_. He finally sat down, and all others present turned around in their chairs to face the controls of their various stations.

"Systems check," Megatron commanded.

"Weapon systems fully functional," Dynamo announced.

"Transwarp drive fully functional," Stingbyte announced.

"Power core operating at 75%," Aphonorase announced.

"Navigation systems online," Screech announced.

"Manual and auto-pilot systems are ready for use," Polis announced.

"Navigation, set a course to the Viam division," Megatron commanded. "We're going to Earth." He took hold of the ship's main thruster and slowly lifted the ship off of its launching pad.

The _Darksyde_passed through the opening at the end of the hangar and was gradually covered in starlight.

"Course for Viam division has been properly programmed, Megatron," Screech told his leader.

Megatron smiled darkly. He pulled the hand grip on the underside of the thruster upwards, powering the ship's main propulsion units. Then he tilted the thruster forward. The ship accelerated, and was soon lost to the galaxy.


	8. The Bullet

Rattrap stared into his leader's optics with unswerving intensity. Optimus had finally made the call he wasn't going to stand for.

"There ain't no way you'd put your captain in _that_ bog. I'm engaging, pal. Show me what you really got 'dere."

A hint of a smile lit across Optimus Primal's face. He moved his hand to the spot on the virtual display where one of his characters stood surrounded by three of Rattrap's fighters, and the piece revealed itself. Captain.

The computer moved through its process of coming to a somewhat random battle outcome based on the statistics of all characters involved, but Rattrap knew what was coming. In short order, Primal's captain stood alone with only a small leg injury to show for it. The wound would slow the character down, maybe.

The Maximals seemed to have been granted a small break from Predacon activity. Optimus had spent a few of the previous days exploring the planet, and he would have continued doing so had a colossal thunder storm not come charging through their territory.

Storms had once been another thing for the Maximals to explore. But they had experienced plenty throughout the course of the Beast Wars, and had thus been given enough opportunities for learning all they wanted to know. Now all they could do was enjoy them (although there were plenty of Maximals who had no intention of doing so) and make sure they were somewhere safe when the storms passed by.

To that end, Optimus had called all patrolling units within the area back to base. A few were still coming in as the rain started, but so long as it was just raining, they had time.

"Tough break, Rattrap. Well, with a clear line of sight from the swamp, my captain's going to set up one of the heavy cannons and fire on your third outpost."

As the computer decided how much damage the attack would do, Dinobot, in beast mode, came up one of the elevators, having just returned from outside.

"_Heavy cannon scores direct hit for-_"

Click.

Optimus stared harshly at Rattrap across the now completely dark console. Rattrap's face was the picture of innocence. "I tell ya', when these storms come through, 'dey really trash the ship systems."

Optimus sighed, ignoring his explanation. But Dinobot was intent on adding fuel to the fire.

"Then perhaps you should go and check on the power connections for the bridge. I imagine, after all, that you are looking for a good excuse to scurry away from that which you do not think you can win."

Rattrap wheeled around in his chair to face the speaker behind him. "Yeah? Well, maybe you'd like to take Optimus' spot and see how quick you go down, scale belly."

"Hey, Dinobot…" Cheetor spoke up tentatively from his position in front of the monitors. The raptor didn't seem to hear him.

"I have no intention of engaging in a trivial game of battle strategy with you. I fear for what impression it may leave on my own skills."

"You saw how bad Optimus was beating me, and you're still too afraid to show me what you've got?"

"Children, children," Cheetor's voice cut across the bridge. "Could you stop for just one nano-click? Dinobot, did you see Rhinox and Steelclaw on your way in here?"

Dinobot growled at the insult, but he kept his gaze fixed on Rattrap as he responded. "Negative."

"Got ya'," Cheetor replied.

"Optimus," Dinobot spoke up, "if you don't mind my taking over…"

"Not at all," the Maximal leader quickly responded, getting out of his chair. Dinobot transformed without his normal cry, and moved to his spot, but refused the chair, feeling he could somehow win more quickly if he was standing over the map.

Rattrap reached over to the side of the console and activated the virtual display again.

"_Heavy cannon scores direct hit for 19,756 damage units. Outpost destroyed._"

"Your move, _vermin_."

"Hang on a second," Rattrap said, not looking back up at Dinobot.

"_Core reactor, damaged,_" the computer announced. "_Blast radius… 9 parsecs._"

"Slag, Dinobot, looks like 'dat's most o' you're stuff down there."

Dinobot watched in dismay as the vast majority of his forces were taken clean off the map, but he refused to show his despair. "Very well, I will-"

"Hey, your team blew the thing up," Rattrap interjected. "It's still my turn. Now, let's see… is your command ship in range? Ooh, lucky me- looks like it is."

* * *

Rhinox and Steelclaw were trotting through a patch of woodlands when the rain hit. For a while, the trees provided relative cover from the drizzle. But soon the leaves and branches became saturated, and the light rain became a torrential downpour.

The water rolled off of Rhinox's hide easily, but Steelclaw was quickly drenched. He wasn't too happy about it either.

"You still hanging on back there?" Rhinox called over the noise of the rain after he turned to see the bear had stopped walking yet again. Not a moment later, Steelclaw was shaking from snout to tail in an attempt to throw the water out of his fur.

Once he stopped shaking, he looked at himself. "It's no use," he observed wearily. "This stuff's still falling in my eyes-" at this he shook his head again- "and I still look like a slagging mop. How far away's the _Axalon_?"

"Not too far," Rhinox explained. "May as well just the let the rain be, Steelclaw. You can only avoid it by getting inside."

Steelclaw started making his way up the hill he and Rhinox were climbing. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. _Slagging rain,_" he muttered.

A short while later, they had made it to the top of the hill. Rhinox motioned with his head. "I can see it. Over there."

Steelclaw looked and was just able to make out the _Axalon_ between the trees spread out in front of them.

"Finally," he said. He looked to Rhinox, being ready to head down the other side of the hill, and then he noticed that his companion had his head tilted at an odd angle. He was listening for something.

"What is it?" Steelclaw's voice instinctively dropped to a whisper.

"We've got company," Rhinox answered almost as quietly.

Steelclaw listened closely and realized he could hear it too. A group of Predacons was coming up the hill. To Steelclaw's surprise, they were arguing very loudly, making no attempt to hide their presence.

"Maybe they haven't seen us yet," Steelclaw spoke up. "We should head down the hill, quick."

Rhinox agreed, and they both started trotting ahead. But the voices behind them only got louder.

"Waspinator can not help it if wings splash water all over stinger-bot. Water is _everywhere!_"

"Then transform and start walking!"

The metallic clashing sound of Waspinator's transforming echoed over the hill. It was quickly followed by a loud thud.

"Watch where you land," Inferno shouted irritably.

Rhinox silently sent a signal to the Axalon. He hoped someone was already watching the monitors, but if that wasn't the case, his signal would get someone to take a look.

"There! I can see the enemy hive!"

"Don't you mean colony?" Terrorsaur spoke up.

"No. We serve the colony."

"Waspinator sees Maximals."

"We've already established that," Scorponok observed grouchily.

"No, Bear-bot and Rhino, see?"

Suddenly, Rhinox and Steelclaw started running at full speed.

"Maximals!" Scorponok shouted. "We must stop them before they can reach their base. Scorponok, terrorize!"

Taking a glance behind himself, Steelclaw saw Waspinator, Inferno and Terrorsaur take to the skies while Scorponok scurried behind as fast as he could. The Predacons were gaining quickly.

"I hate to say it," Steelclaw said, looking to Rhinox, "but I think they've got us outpaced. I think we'd do better making a stand."

"No, we only have to get a little further," Rhinox answered. "Help should be on the way." Not wishing to take any risks, he got on his com-link. "Maximal base, this is Rhinox, requesting back up. We're just North, under-"

"Oofh!"

Steelclaw suddenly fell next to him, having taken a shot in the side from Inferno.

"Steelclaw!" Rhinox shouted.

Picking himself up from the muddy ground, Steelclaw reassured his companion. "I'm fine. But I'm getting my gun."

Rhinox decided to do the same, and both Maximals transformed, one after the other. They immediately saw that Waspinator and Terrorsaur were swooping down for a strafing run. Reacting quickly, they brought their weapons up and unleashed a volley on the fliers.

The two Predacons avoided the assault nimbly, but they were forced into a brief retreat. Steelclaw and Rhinox kept running, firing more shots in an attempt to ward off Inferno and Scorponok, who were venturing closer.

As quickly as they had left, Waspinator and Terrorsaur came flying back, and this time, they were able to take the shots they wanted. The trees provided some cover for the Maximals, dropping branches and erupting in splintered wood as missiles and quasar blasts smashed into them. Even so, the Maximals couldn't afford to ignore the attack. Rhinox took one of Waspinator's missiles to the shoulder, but he stoically stood his ground.

This gave Inferno the opportunity to land on the forest floor close to the Maximals. Rhinox turned around to face him, only to be blasted directly in the chest by both of Inferno's guns. He was knocked to the ground forcefully, and lost his grip on one of his weapons. But as soon as he fell, Steelclaw was revealed standing just behind him, his gauss rifle pointed and ready. He made a quick readjustment in his aim, and then, with one shot between the eyes, put Inferno in stasis lock.

His victory was short lived. Scorponok had come close enough for an easy shot, and he hit Steelclaw in his side with what looked to Rhinox like a tracer round. Just as the Maximal scientist was scrambling to his feet, Steelclaw fell to the ground.

Rhinox aimed his chain-gun at Scorponok's chest and let him take the full force of the weapon. Scorponok cried aloud and then ran further up the hill, letting the bullets hit his back. Rhinox traced his movement, his bullets cutting through leaves and burying into trunks, until eventually, Scorponok had moved far enough away to be sufficiently protected by the surrounding trees. Turning around, Rhinox saw that Waspinator and Terrorsaur had come to the ground and were closing on his position fast.

He made a quick dash for his second weapon, taking a few hits from Terrorsaur. Grabbing the chain-gun from the rain soaked ground, he raised it at the Predacons along with its counterpart and opened fire in spurts as he moved sideways. The bullets occasionally found their mark, bouncing off the Predacons' frames. But the enemy continued advancing.

Reaching Steelclaw, Rhinox took the chance to bend down and take a look at him. To his horror, the marksman was already in stasis lock. Checking behind himself for a moment, he saw Scorponok beginning to walk closer. Then a missile from Waspinator hit just on the other side of the trunk he was hiding behind and tore a chunk out of it.

Rhinox quickly decided how to react. Hoisting Steelclaw over his left shoulder, he came out from behind the tree and began walking forward.

Waspinator was directly in his path, and he unloaded both of his weapons on him. The sparks flying off of Waspinator's frame illuminated the surrounding rain in a glowing yellow. As soon as Waspinator fell, Rhinox took off running, firing more rounds in Terrorsaur's direction. Terrorsaur took some shots of his own, trying to bring the Maximal down. But for all of the blackened metal and mech fluid visible over his frame, Rhinox wouldn't fall.

He quickly passed by Terrorsaur, and after a few more paces, he found himself on the open plain leading to the starboard side of the _Axalon_. Terrorsaur quickly flew above the tree line and gave chase, firing down on the two Maximals with his shoulder cannons. The quasar blasts came dangerously close, churning up dirt as they slammed into the ground, until a shot finally hit Rhinox in the legs. He stumbled into the mud and Steelclaw was thrown from his shoulder.

Terrorsaur cackled triumphantly and swooped down closer to the Maximals. That's when he heard a growl coming from somewhere a ways off. A hint of movement caught his eye, and he saw that Cheetor had come out the Maximal base, and was now running towards him, taking shots with his quasar gun. Terrorsaur smirked- the cat couldn't possibly reach him in time.

Then he heard the sound of jets, and he saw that Optimus Primal was approaching in the skies, and approaching much too fast. Terrorsaur shouted in fear and turned around before flying away from the Maximals as quickly as he could.

Optimus, satisfied with Terrorsaur's retreat, quickly descended to the returning scouts.

"Rhinox," he said after landing. "Are you two alright?"

Rhinox rose uneasily to his feet. "I'm fine," he replied. He transformed to beast mode and landed heavily on his hooves. "But Steelclaw's out cold. We need to get him to a CR chamber."

"I'll take him," Optimus said. "Can you walk the rest of the way?"

Rhinox began walking towards the base in partial response. "Yeah," he replied simply. Just then, Cheetor came running up to the group, barely managing to stop himself on the slippery ground.

"Hey- are you guys o.k.?" he asked, unaware of the redundancy of his question.

"We'll be alright, Cheetor," Rhinox answered patiently. "Just had another run in with the Preds."

Just then, a voice came quietly, as if from one talking far away.

"No, not me. I'm done…"

They quickly realized that Steelclaw had spoken.

"He isn't knocked out?" Cheetor asked.

"I'm sure he is," Rhinox contended. "Just a bit of stasis murmuring. Either way, the sooner he gets repairs, the better."

The Maximals immediately headed back to base, with Cheetor and Optimus keeping an optic out for any Predacons.

* * *

The rain continued to pour over the landscape surrounding the _Axalon_, drenching everything in sight. The heavy cloud cover had kept the sun at bay ever since the storm started rolling in, casting everything in an unnatural darkness until the day came to a gradual end, and there was less and less light to hide. One tall figure stood imposingly in the elements, undisturbed by- or perhaps reveling in- the tempestuous atmosphere.

The four defeated Predacons approached him carefully. Inferno, who was still unconscious, was dragged gracelessly by Scorponok. After letting go of his comrade's chassis, Scorponok crept closer.

"We have done as you requested, lord Megatron."

Megatron loomed over his second-in-command.

"And the Maximals- they are none the wiser?"

"Uh…" Scorponok faltered. "Well, we definitely made it look like an accidental run-in."

"That should suffice," Megatron answered before staring away towards the _Axalon_. A flash of lighting made its way across the darkened sky, illuminating Megatron for the first time. He seemed to be deep in thought, but even in a pensive state, the Tyrannosaur was a fear-instilling sight. He opened his mouth to speak for a moment. In the darkness, Scorponok could just make out his line of jagged teeth.

"No one is to venture any closer to the Maximal base until I give the order. If anyone crosses back into the range of their scanners, the secrecy needed for this mission will be jeopardized."

None of the Predacons needed to be told twice.

"We will watch and wait for now. But before this night ends, we will ensure the Maximals' defeat."

Scorponok, who continued to observe Megatron, saw the predatory expectation in his distant gaze at the _Axalon_. Another flash of lighting appeared as he spoke one more word.

"Yes."

* * *

Rhinox was standing at the center console, studying blue schematics from the CR chamber Steelclaw had been placed in. Blazemane watched on worriedly.

"Rhinox, shouldn't ya' be in the other 'R chamber?"

"I'll manage for now," Rhinox answered shortly. Blazemane said nothing more, deciding to let Rhinox be the judge of his own condition.

"So how are Steelclaw's repairs proceeding?" Swiftang spoke up, coming out of one of the ship's hallways.

"I'm not sure," Rhinox answered. "He seems to have gotten hit by something… programmable- like a probe or a microchip. It's made its way to his processor- we can't pull it safely."

"Don't our processors possess safeguards for such invasions?" Swiftfang asked.

"Yeah," said Rhinox. "My best guess is that the device had some sort of mechanism for signaling to his systems that it would benefit them- like medical probes have. Only problem with that theory is that the medical probes are kept on constant internal surveillance. The nanoclick they do something harmful- even if just by mistake- they get fried. It's possible the Predacons have finally worked their way around that."

Swiftfang worked to understand the information that was just thrown at him. He soon had another question.

"Is the CR chamber informing you of anything, precisely, that the probe may be doing to his processor? Or are any vital signs dropping- anything like that?"

"His overall condition is improving- not getting worse. And we do know that the Pred device is close to the area of his processor which controls his identity circuits. But the CR chamber can't give us the specifics of what's being done."

Cheetor, who had been listening to the entire conversation, had something to say. "If that's all we can know, are you sure you don't want to get repairs?"

"We've learned all we can about his condition, but that doesn't mean we've done all we can about it," Rhinox responded firmly. "I don't know what's happening to Steelclaw, but I do know the Predacons aren't on our side. Something bad's going on here, and I don't intend to leave it alone."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Rhinox became lost in thought once more as he stared at the projected schematics. Some of the Maximals watched on. Others went back to focusing on their tasks.

Cheetor was sitting on monitor duty with Dinobot and Rattrap, and a thought occurred to him.

"So what happened to the game you guys were playing? I had to bail before I could look at who was winning."

"It was a draw," Rattrap replied somewhat darkly.

"Had we not been forced to quit by the sudden Predacon activity, I most certainly would have been victorious," Dinobot contended.

"Your general wasn't gonna last three more turns, ya' lyin' lizard."

"And yours was set to expire with my next attack. You can not come to terms with the fact that after you struck such a cheap blow to my forces, I was still able to-"

"Slag, Cheetor," Blazemane interrupted, having come closer to the group. "Even when these two aren't competing, they're competing."

"It's kinda fun to watch," Cheetor admitted.

"Too many cats in this base," Rattrap muttered.

Blazemane turned his head quizzically. "What was that?"

Rattrap suddenly looked past Blazemane. "Hang on, somethin's goin' on over there," he said, pointing to the center console. Then he got out of his chair and walked over.

Blazemane turned and saw a hologram of Steelclaw blinking on and off- an indication that the CR chamber had finished its repairs. Optimus Primal was standing next to Rhinox now, looking at the schematics as intently as the scientist was.

"I don't like it, Optimus. The rest of his systems are fine, but the CR chamber's registering an increase in his processor activity."

"Wait," Cheetor called across the room. "You mean like… the Preds made something better?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," Rhinox replied. "There are a number of things the Predacons could want to do that would make his processing levels spike like that. Frankly, they don't bear discussing out loud."

"So what are you thinking, Rhinox?" Optimus asked.

"It's risky, but I think our best move now is to let him come out of stasis lock and see for ourselves how he's acting. I can't figure out anything else just by looking at these charts."

Optimus didn't hesitate in making his decision.

"Proceed."

Rhinox gave the console's keyboard a few quick taps. The next moment, the CR chamber's locks deactivated and moved out of the way. Then the chamber's door swung upwards.

Steelclaw's optics flashed blue for a moment and then flickered out. Then the color came back to stay. The Maximal stared intensely at the group of allies positioned around the chamber, staring back at him. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm in here, so we must have won."

A small amount of relief washed over most of the onlookers, but Rhinox's demeanor seemed unchanged. "Yeah, we won. How are you feeling?"

Steelclaw stood up carefully and started walking out of the chamber. "I feel fine. What's everybody gawking at?"

"I know it's a weird question, but how are your thoughts?" Rhinox ignored his question. "No sense of panic, or inability to concentrate?"

"No."

"No strange feelings of cowardice or unchecked anger?"

Steelclaw chuckled. "Cheetor told me about that. But really, what's going on?"

Rhinox looked to Optimus, who gave him a nod, and then turned back to Steelclaw.

"In the fight out there, Scorponok shot you with something computerized. It made its way to your processor, and the read-outs we were getting from the CR chamber indicated that it was doing something there. We just didn't know what. And you're sure nothing seems wrong?"

"Well, if something was wrong with my processor, it would probably still feel natural to me," Steelclaw observed. "But, I mean… no- nothing's telling me to go access the _Axalon's_ database and send it to the Predacons. And, anyways, if I start dying, I'll try to come find you."

Rhinox felt uneasy, but there was nothing else he could ask. If Steelclaw didn't feel anything bad, then the Maximals wouldn't know anything more until he did.

"Alright," Rhinox replied simply. "Well, if you're sure, then I'm going to check into a CR chamber myself. You start feeling anything- anything at all- wake me up immediately. I don't care what stage of repair I'm in."

"You got it," Steelclaw answered.

As Rhinox entered the other CR chamber, Steelclaw looked around the bridge.

"So what's the situation with the Predacons, anyways? Are any of them still hanging around?" he asked.

Dinobot answered. "The four you and Rhinox encountered retreated out of scanner range as soon as you two were rescued. Neither they or any others have been detected since."

"Thanks," said Steelclaw. Then he looked to Optimus. "If it's alright, sir, I'd like to go to my quarters now."

In spite of the numerous assurances which had passed in the bridge since Steelclaw had awoken, Optimus' suspicions were still aroused by Steelclaw's request. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, sir. I just feel like… being in stasis lock in a CR chamber isn't quite as resting as actual voluntary stasis, you know?"

"I understand," Optimus answered.

Without another word, Steelclaw walked off down one of the hallways leading away from the bridge. The rest of the Maximals gradually sat down or walked back to monitors, still thinking about the confusing situation they'd just witnessed. Eventually, Cheetor spoke up.

"Hey Rattrap- you feel like playing that game?"

"Kid, I don't want to embarrass ya'."

"Hey, it's one thing if you're scared of losing to Dinobot, but now you don't even want to face me?"

Rattrap stared ahead at the monitors for a few nano-clicks before "cracking" his robotic knuckles. The kitten was about to learn the meaning of defeat.

* * *

In his quarters, behind the closed and locked door, Steelclaw sat on the metal panel which served as his bed.

At the foot of the bed lay his sniper rifle and his rocket launcher. Both were cleaned, assembled and loaded. In his hands, he held his gauss rifle, which he was placing the last few necessary rounds into. All the while, he stared ahead at the door, but he wasn't focusing his gaze on it.

Steelclaw remembered. He knew not how, but he remembered everything.


End file.
